Classic Poem

Blue Athabasca,
Splendours of evening
Lie on thy waters.

There is my dream-ship
Crowned by the sunlight
Flung o'er the mountains.

There my dream-laughter
Stands in the sunset
Breathing her gladness.

Hair glory-flowing,
Eyes of deep joyance,
Smile like the sunrise

Queen of my dream-ship
Trimmed for the northlands,
Prow to the Arctic.

Blue Athabasca,
Clearest of waters,
Woo the aurora.

On to the Arctic,
On to the ramparts
Of the Mackenzie.

Bear my dream-laughter
On thy blue billow
Clear as her eyes are,

Lifeward and joyward,
Ripple each wave to her,
Make thy soul slave to her.

Till in the far off
Ocean of Thule,
Challenging iceberg,

Daring the breakers
Out on the eerie
Waves of the Arctic,

We, the immortals, —
Thou, the joy-hearted,
I, the star-pilgrim, —

Plunging and floating,
Heaved on the billows
Of the vast ocean,

Rest in the cradle
Of the great waters,
Loving and dreaming.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Blue Athabasca,
Splendours of evening
Lie on thy waters.

Come, O Dream-Laughter,
Fountain of joyance,
Faerie of Thule,

Come to my dream-ship
Trimmed for the north-land,
Prow to the Arctic.