  Along the shores of Point Pelee, Three hundred years ago, The summer sun in rapture shone, And pure winds soft did blow. The laughing waters rose and fell In soft caressing lave; And flashing sea-birds dipt their wings, And white gulls skimmed the wave. The mallard ducks in thousands flew Along the rippling tide, And eagles soared in heaven’s blue In freedom far and wide; And gay kingfishers watched the surf, And divers cleaved the deep. Across the waters far away Stole murmurs strange and sweet. The finny tribes in schools did glide Along the sandy bars; The splendor of their jewelled sides Flashed up like silver stars. The sturgeon floundered in their glee, Mud pouts and cats at play— A subtle gladness brooded there Throughout the fair sweet day. The warm south winds stole o’er the lake Along the shifting bars; The bright waves met in dashing foam, Flashing like crystal stars. Met the enraptured gaze; On the horizon far away Hung a delicious haze. Ashore! ashore! let’s leap ashore, And glide ’neath cedar shade, Where pine trees raise their fronded crests O’er many a sylvan glade; Where juniper in clusters grow, And twining vines wreathe o’er The nooks and winding velvet ways That reach from shore to shore. The walnut and the oak tree, too, Their sturdy forms uprear; The haunts of squirrel and raccoon, Wild-cat and savage bear, And mink and otter haunt these shades. Their wants are all supplied; Sleek creatures, how they frisk and play In all their graceful pride! Oft, too, is heard the howl of wolf, When night-time closes down; The sylvan glades, lost in the shades, With their fierce cries resound. The bounding deer and graceful fawn Here, too, have made their home; Untamed, unfettered, and all free, These lovely haunts they roam. Hark to that wave of melody, That here so sweetly thrills; It flows from all the nooks and glens, And from the sunlit hills! Jays, robins, join the song, And bluebirds with the azure wing, A blithe and happy throng! The whippoorwill, and catbird, too, Whose song steals on the night, The chatter of the festive owl That shouts in weird delight! A thousand voices join the lay, And rhythmic fluttering wings Of every hue play interlude To the hymn that nature sings. See, the flowers of every hue— Wild roses like a dream— Breathe out their incense on the air, Odorous and serene! The lily and the violet sweet Peep up on every side, And buttercups and wild bluebells In all their native pride. CHAPTER II.Ah! Nature with a lavish hand Hath here her treasures strewn, All undisturbed by ruthless man That scathes and mars too soon. Back o’er the silent phantom past, Three hundred years ago, Fair Point Pelee in rapture lay Where laughing waters flow. ’Twas here the red man made his home, Beneath the cedar shade; The wigwams rose so quaint and queer By quiet nook and glade. Fierce, untamed, and free; They dwelt in peace and plenteousness Beside this inland sea. And Manitou had blest them so With fish and luscious game; The hunting grounds were so replete Before the white man came! Where now are termed the “Indian fields” They grew the Indian corn, And laugh and song with sweet content Roused up the summer morn. Far on the north the marshlands lay, And pond, and wide lagoon; The home of snipe and mallard ducks, Geese, teal, and lonely loon. Among the reeds, and rushes, too, The muskrats built their homes; They dotted o’er the wide expanse With quaint, ingenious domes. And Willow Island far away, Stirred by the toying breeze That makes the rice and grass fields wave Like tossing emerald seas. From east to west, from shore to shore, The teeming marshlands lay; The Narrows, by the western shore, A picturesque causeway. The pass that leads by Sturgeon Creek, And circles Pigeon Bay, By which are reached fair Seacliff Heights, And regions far away; In golden splendor smiles On Pelee Island, fitly crowned The queen of Erie’s isles. Aye, here it was, the red man’s home, Three hundred years ago; And peace and plenty blest his lot By the bright water’s flow. He had the teem |
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