A Canadian Epic, I–XXIV

Around, both far and wide, on every hand The prairie all environs me; I see Nought save a stretch of green and treeless land, Conspicuous alone for nudity: A sea of earth, a boundless stretch unspanned Except by Heaven's broad horizon-band.

The very vastness of its sameness lends A fascination which it else had not; And here my sense of solitude transcends What I have felt on any other spot: Of solitude, yet not of loneliness, For God seems present, and His distance less.

The sea alone of Nature's works can vie With this in solitude. None else can be Compared to it. Here 'neath his Maker's eye The creature seems to stand more openly Than elsewhere. Here his very solitude Makes man appear by God more nearly viewed.

Yet is not here God's awfulness displayed; His kindliness and mercy more appear; For flow'rs, the precious emblems He has made Of graciousness, in plenitude are here. In rich profusion blooming unconfined, They seem to whisper softly: "God is kind."

Yet break they not the solitude; nor can The works of Nature break the solitude. Man needs the presence of his fellow-man, And ever needs it, whatsoe'er his mood; Except when, in the hour he calls his own, He holds communion with his God alone.

How vast this solitude! And yet 'tmay be That, ere a decade's course is fully run, This prairie, where no being I can see Inhabiting, may be well built upon; And even on this lonely stretch of ground Surrounding me, a city may be found.

So rapidly have risen in the past The cities in this Western land, that well May we expect that not at all less fast Shall future cities rise. And here may dwell A population, whose increasing rate Shall rival cities of an older date.

I once had thought that I would choose to live Upon the prairie-land. My youthful eyes Raised here a mighty castle, which should give A home to me and mine. To youth there lies A fascination in the great Unknown, Which some in old age have not yet outgrown.

Thus was I fascinated, and I thought A prairie life, untrammeled, free and blest, Much happiness to me had surely brought; And so I longed to roam the mighty West. But kindly Fate forbade me then to roam, Well knowing that the West was not my home.

But now I stand upon the prairie, now I see the land which once I longed to see— And fain must smile, as I remember how This land seemed once a paradise to me. But that was ere my eye had ever seen These thousand miles of treeless prairie-green.

Nay, this is not the prairie that I saw In youth's mirage; 'twas fairer far than this. For youth's imagination knows no law, And soars to heights of future-coming bliss, In lands where gladness reigns eternally, Too bright, too beautiful, alas! to be.

For each his load of pain and woe must bear, And each must feel the weight of Sorrow's hand, And each will sometimes bow in deep despair, And 'neath his burden think he cannot stand. But strength will come to each in time of need, For they whom grief destroys are few indeed.

Thus youth's bright visions vanish all away, And nought remains save memory. And we Can calmly watch them thus dissolve, and say:— "'Tis better thus; 'tis best they should not be." For Time has shown us, in his onward flight, That all our visions were too grossly bright;

That, had the dreams we cherished come to pass, We should not be the men that now we are; That what we saw through youth's bright distance-glass Was but a trinket shining as a star; That selfish pleasure, with its gaudy gleams, Alone illumed the brightest of our dreams.

And we have learned that 'tis not all to be Self-seeking pleasure-hunters; higher far Are works of kindliness and charity Which we can do, whate'er our frailties are. And we have learned that pain and sorrow, though Unwelcome guests, have each a work to do.

And so we grieve or sorrow not to see Our visions melt away like Winter's snow; But rather thank we all our God that He Sent forth the edict that it should be so; And humbly bless, with gratitude sincere, The hand that led us to a higher sphere.

Farewell! thou vast and fertile prairie-land. Farewell! Not long so dreary wilt thou be; Already man, with ever-busy hand, Is cultivating and enriching thee; And with the wealth of this, thy virgin soil, Thou well rewardest him for all his toil.

In cloudy height surrounding me, uprear The Rocky Mountains their uncounted heads. And mountains, mountains only now appear, So thickly clustered that the sun but sheds Upon their highest peaks his morning light, While all below is hidden from his sight.

Here rise their sky-aspiring pinnacles In barren ruggedness and majesty; While here some verdure-covered height instils An awe less dread by its fertility; And here again, a peak of snowy whiteness Relieves the gloom and shadow by its brightness.

Each one a thing of grandeur, each alone Inspiring fearsome wonder in my soul, What marvel that my being all is thrown Aghast in awe by this stupendous Whole? What wonder that I stand in mute amaze, Dumfounded by the scene whereon I gaze?

My God, how wonderful Thy works appear! How mighty art Thou, and omnipotent! Before Thee, bending low in reverent fear, I humbly bow. My human pride is bent. Thou, Thou art God my awful Maker, I Am helpless in my weak humanity.

I hear the Psalmist's words again, and now Their fuller meaning bursts upon my soul; Thou madest all the earth and heaven, Thou Dost hold the mighty seas within control; These lofty heights were form'd by Thy right-hand; Thou formedst all—all bow to Thy command.

And what is man to Thee? He well may fall Before Thee worshipping, when thus he sees Thy vast creations. Weak indeed and small Doth man appear before such works as these. In meek humility I bend my knee Before Thee. Lord, why thinkest Thou of me?

Yet why should all these wonders, thus arrayed Before me, more command my reverence Than man, the greatest creature God has made, And chiefest pledge of His omnipotence? Before the man these wonders fade away, As pales the moon before the orb of day.