YOUNG MAN What are the Vision and the Cry That haunt the new Canadian soul? Dim grandeur spreads we know not why O'er mountain, forest, tree and knoll, And murmurs indistinctly fly.-- Some magic moment sure is nigh. O Seer, the curtain roll! SEER The Vision, mortal, it is this-- Dead mountain, forest, knoll and tree Awaken all endued with bliss, A native land--O think!--to be-- _Thy_ native land--and ne'er amiss, Its smile shall like a lover's kiss From henceforth seem to thee.…
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