St. Lawrence and the Saguenay, The - Part 46
Shineth the Pilgrim's Cross, that long hath cheered
The weary wanderer from distant lands,
Who, as his stately pinnace onward steered,
Bless'd his Faith's symbol with uplifted hands.
Swift through the R ICHILEAU ! Past the white sands
That spangle fair B ATISCAN'S pleasant shore
We glide, where fairy dwellings dot the strands;
How gracefully yon aged elms brood o'er
The shrubbery that yearneth for their mystic lore,
The weary wanderer from distant lands,
Who, as his stately pinnace onward steered,
Bless'd his Faith's symbol with uplifted hands.
Swift through the R ICHILEAU ! Past the white sands
That spangle fair B ATISCAN'S pleasant shore
We glide, where fairy dwellings dot the strands;
How gracefully yon aged elms brood o'er
The shrubbery that yearneth for their mystic lore,
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