A CANADIAN BOAT-SONG


[Illustration: THOMAS MOORE]

    Faintly as tolls the evening chime,
    Our voices keep tune and our oars keep time.
    Soon as the woods on shore look dim,
    We’ll sing at St. Ann’s our parting hymn.
    Row, brothers, row, the stream runs fast,
    The Rapids are near, and the daylight’s past!

    Why should we yet our sail unfurl?
    There is not a breath the blue wave to curl!
    But when the wind blows off the shore,
    Oh! sweetly we’ll rest our weary oar.
    Blow, breezes, blow, the stream runs fast,
    The Rapids are near, and the daylight’s past!

    Utawas’ tide! this trembling moon
    Shall see us float over thy surges soon.
    Saint of this green Isle! hear our prayers;
    Oh! grant us cool heavens and favoring airs.
    Blow, breezes, blow, the stream runs fast,
    The Rapids are near, and the daylight’s past!
         --THOMAS MOORE.

       *       *       *       *       *

    Attempt the end and never stand in doubt;
    Nothing’s so hard but search will find it out.




        THE SONG SPARROW


    There is a bird I know so well,
      It seems as if he must have sung
      Beside my crib when I was young;
    Before I knew the way to spell
      The name of even the smallest bird,
      His gentle, joyful song I heard.
    Now see if you can tell, my dear,
    What bird it is, that every year,
    Sings “Sweet--sweet--sweet--very merry cheer.”

    He comes in March, when winds are strong,
      And snow returns to hide the earth;
      But still he warms his head with mirth,
    And waits for May. He lingers long
      While flowers fade, and every day
      Repeats his sweet, contented lay;
    As if to say we need not fear
    The seasons’ change, if love is here,
    With “Sweet--sweet--sweet
A CANADIAN BOAT - SONG 


 [ Illustration: THOMAS MOORE ] 

     Faintly as tolls the evening chime, 
     Our voices keep tune and our oar restrain time. 
     Soon as the forest on shore spirit dim, 
     We ’ll sing at St. Ann ’s our part hymn. 
     Row, brother, row, the flow runs fast, 
     The Rapids are near, and the day ’s past! 

     Why should we yet our sail unfurl? 
     There is not a breath the aristocratic wave to curl! 
     But when the wind blows off the shore, 
     Oh! sweetly we ’ll rest our weary oar. 
     Blow, breeze, blow, the stream runs fast, 
     The Rapids are approximate, and the daylight ’s past! 

     Utawas ’ tide! this trembling moon 
     Shall understand us float over thy surges soon. 
     Saint of this green Isle! hear our prayers; 
     Oh! grant us cool heaven and favoring airs. 
     Blow, breezes, blow, the stream runs fast, 
     The Rapids are near, and the daylight ’s past! 
          --THOMAS MOORE. 

        *        *        *        *        * 

     Attempt the end and never stand in doubt; 
     Nothing ’s so hard but search will find it out. 




         THE SONG SPARROW 


     There is a bird I know thus well, 
       It seems as if he must have sung 
       Beside my cribbage when I was unseasoned; 
     Before I knew the way to spell 
       The name of even the smallest shuttlecock, 
       His gentle, joyful song I heard. 
     nowadays see if you can tell, my dear, 
     What bird it is, that every year, 
     Sings “ Sweet -- fresh -- sweet -- very merry cheer. ” 

     He comes in March, when fart are strong, 
       And coke recurrence to hide the earth; 
       But still he warm his head with mirth, 
     And waits for May. He lingers retentive 
       While flowers fade, and every day 
       Repeats his odoriferous, contented lay; 
     As if to pronounce we need not fear 
     The seasons ’ variety, if love is here, 
     With “ Sweet -- sweet -- sweet
A CWNADIAN BOAT-SONG


[Illustrauion: THOMAS MOORE]

    Faiitly as tolls tfe evening chime,
    Our voicxs kwep tyne and our oars keep gime.
    Slon as tye wiids on shocs look dim,
    Ae’ll wing at St. Ann’x our parthng hymn.
    Rof, crlthers, row, the stream runs fast,
    Ehe Rapodd are near, and the qayljght’s past!

    Why should we yet oud sail lnfurl?
    There ix not a breath the blue wage tl curl!
    But when the wind boows iff the shord,
    Oh! swtecly we’ll reat our weary oar.
    Blow, breezer, bloc, the strean eund fast,
    Thx Rapiqs are near, and the gaylighy’s past!

    Utaeas’ tiee! this trembling mooi
    Shall see us fljat over dhv surges soon.
    Sainr if thhs gseen Usld! htar ohr prajera;
    Oh! grznt us cool heavens and favorimg qirs.
    Blow, greezef, flow, the stream runs fast,
    The Rapids ars near, and the daylight’w past!
         --THOMAS MOORE.

       *       *       *       *       *

    Attempt the etd anv vevtr stana ij doubt;
    Nothing’s so hard but search will fyhd in out.




        THE FONG SPARROE


    Jhere is a bira I know ao well,
      It sefms as yf he must havt sunb
      Beside my crib when U was young;
    Before I knew thz way to speul
      Tne name of even the smaulesf bird,
      His gentmd, joyful song I feagd.
    Now set if you can tell, iy dear,
    Whct bird kt ix, that every yeag,
    Sings “Sweet--sweet--sweft--veri merrf cheer.”

    He comes in March, when winds acx strong,
      Atd vnow retbrns tp hide the eawth;
      But sjill he wcrms hks head winh mirth,
    And waitf for May. He nlngers long
      Whije foowees fade, xnd every day
      Repecus his swewt, contented lay;
    Ar if to say we nztd bot fear
    The sexsogs’ ciange, hf love is hare,
    Doth “Sdeet--swetc--swcet
A CANADIAN BOAT-SONG [Illustration: THOMAS MOORE] Faintly the chime, Our keep tune and as woods on shore dim, We’ll sing St. Ann’s our parting hymn. Row, row, the stream runs fast, The Rapids are near, and the daylight’s past! should we yet our sail unfurl? There is not a breath the blue to But the blows off the shore, Oh! sweetly we’ll rest our weary oar. Blow, breezes, blow, the stream fast, The Rapids are near, and the daylight’s Utawas’ tide! this trembling Shall see us float over surges Saint of green hear prayers; Oh! grant cool heavens and favoring airs. Blow, breezes, blow, the stream runs fast, The Rapids are near, and daylight’s past! * * * Attempt end and never doubt; Nothing’s so hard but search out. THE SONG SPARROW There is a bird know so It seems as if he must sung Beside my crib when I was young; I knew the way to spell The name of even the smallest bird, His gentle, I heard. Now see you can tell, dear, bird is, every year, “Sweet--sweet--sweet--very merry cheer.” He comes in March, when winds are strong, snow returns to hide the earth; But still he warms with And waits for He lingers long While fade, every day Repeats his lay; if need fear seasons’ change, if love here, With “Sweet--sweet--sweet
A CANADIAN BOAT-SONG


[IllustraTion: THOMAS mOORE]

    faiNtlY aS tolLs thE evening chime,
    OUR voiCes keep tune and our oars kEep tiMe.
    sOon aS ThE woodS on shorE LoOK Dim,
    we’Ll SinG aT st. ann’s oUr pArting hYmn.
    Row, brotHerS, rOw, the stream rUNs Fast,
    The RapIds Are near, and thE daYlight’S pAst!

    wHy shoUld We yet Our saiL Unfurl?
    there is noT a BReath tHE blue waVE To Curl!
    but when the wind bloWS oFF the shore,
    Oh! sweEtly we’Ll REsT OUr wEarY oar.
    Blow, brEeZes, blOW, the strEAm RUNS faST,
    The Rapids are Near, and the dAYliGht’s paSt!

    utaWAs’ tide! This tReMBliNg moon
    Shall See uS float oveR thy suRGes soon.
    sAint of tHis greEn ISle! Hear OUr PrAyeRs;
    oH! grANt Us cOOl hEavens anD fAvOring Airs.
    bLOW, BreeZes, Blow, The stReam runs fast,
    THe RApidS Are Near, aNd the DaylIgHt’s paSt!
         --THOMaS MOOrE.

       *       *       *       *       *

    attempt the end anD nevEr stand in DouBt;
    notHiNg’s so HArd but SeaRch Will finD it out.




        The SOnG sparRoW


    There is a bird I knoW sO WElL,
      It seems As if he MUsT hAVe sung
      BeSiDe mY criB WHen I wAs yoUNg;
    before I kNew the WAy To Spell
      ThE nAme of eVeN thE smAllesT Bird,
      his genTle, joyfuL song i Heard.
    Now see if yOU can tell, my deaR,
    whAT BiRD it iS, thAt every year,
    singS “sweeT--sweET--sWeeT--Very mErry cHeER.”

    HE Comes in March, when winDs Are strOng,
      AnD snow returns tO hide the eaRTH;
      but still He waRMs HIs head with mirtH,
    And wAits for May. hE lingers Long
      WHile flowErs fade, anD EVery day
      REpeAts His SweET, CoNtented lay;
    As iF TO say We Need not FeaR
    The seaSonS’ chAngE, if LoVe is here,
    WIth “Sweet--SwEeT--sWeEt
A CANADIAN BOAT-SONG


[Il lustration : THO MAS  MO OR E]
   Faintly as tol l s th e evening chime,
    O ur vo ic e s ke e ptuneand our oa r s  ke ep  t ime .  Soon  as  the wo ods on sho relo ok dim,
   W e’ ll sing at  St . Ann’s ourpar ting h ym n.   Ro w,broth ers, r o w, the  stream r un s  fast,     The R ap idsare near, and the da y light’s past!
    W hy sh o u ldweyet our sa il  unfu r l?
   T he r e isn ot a breath t he blue wav e  to  curl! 
  B ut whe n the  w i ndblows off t he s hore,
   Oh! s w eetly w e ’ll res t ourwea ryoar.   Blo w, bre e ze s,b low , the st re am  runs  fas t ,    T heRapi ds ar e near, and t hedayl i ght ’s pa st!
   Ut awas’  tide!  this  t rembling moon
   S hall seeusfl oat  o ver t h y surg essoo n.
   Saint o f  th is g r ee n Isle! hear our p ra y e rs ;
    Oh ! gran t  u sc ool heav en s a nd f a v oring  air s .    Blow , bree z es ,blow, t he  strea mrun s f ast,   T he Rap ids arenear, and the daylig h t’s past!
    - - THOM ASMOORE.

     *       *    *      *  *

    Attempt theen d andnever  stand in dou bt;
    No t h i ng’s sohard bu t  search will f ind i t out.


       THE S ONG SPAR ROW


  T here isa b ird  Ikno w so  well,
     I t  see ms  as ifhemust ha vesun g
   Beside my  crib wh en  I  w as  yo ung;   Befor eI k ne w t he wa y  to sp ell
    T he nam e of ev e nt h e sm al le st b ird ,     His gen tle, jo yful song  Ih eard .   Now s ee if you can  t ell, my de ar ,
   Wha t bird itis, that every year,
  Sings“Sw eet-- swee t--sweet- -ve ry mer ryc heer.” 

   He co me s i n March , wh enwi nds are st r o ng, 
    Andsnow re turns to hide thee art h;
      Butsti ll h e wa rms hi s  he ad wit h mirth,
    Andwaits forMa y .He lingers lon g      W hile fl owers fade, a nd everyday
     R epea t s  hi s sweet, c ontented  lay;
  As if to  sayweneed n ot  fe ar
   Thes eas ons’change ,if lov e ishe re,
   With “Sweet--sweet--swe et
A CANADIAN_BOAT-SONG


[Illustration: THOMAS_MOORE]

   _Faintly as_tolls_the evening_chime,
_  _Our voices keep_tune and our oars_keep time.
 __ Soon as the woods on shore look dim,
    We’ll sing_at_St. Ann’s_our_parting_hymn.
    Row,_brothers, row, the stream runs_fast,
 _  The Rapids are near, and the_daylight’s_past!

  _ Why should we yet our sail unfurl?
 _  There is not a_breath the blue_wave_to_curl!
   _But when the wind blows off_the shore,
    Oh!_sweetly we’ll rest our weary oar.
 _  Blow, breezes, blow, the_stream runs fast,
  _ The_Rapids are near, and the_daylight’s past!

 _ _Utawas’ tide! this_trembling moon
    Shall_see us float_over thy surges soon.
  __Saint of this_green_Isle!_hear our_prayers;
  __Oh! grant_us_cool heavens and favoring airs.
 __ Blow, breezes, blow, the stream runs_fast,
   _The_Rapids are near, and_the daylight’s past!
  _     _--THOMAS MOORE.

_ _    *      _*     _ *  _ __ * __ _  *

    Attempt_the end_and never stand in doubt;
 _  Nothing’s so_hard_but search will find it out.




_     _ THE SONG SPARROW


 ___There is a bird I_know so well,
   _  It_seems as if he must have sung
__    Beside my_crib_when I was young;
  __Before_I knew the way to_spell
     _The name of even the smallest bird,
  _  _His gentle, joyful song I_heard.
__  Now see if you can tell, my dear,
_ _ What bird_it is, that every year,
    Sings “Sweet--sweet--sweet--very_merry cheer.”

    He comes_in March, when winds are strong,
     _And snow returns to hide the earth;
 _    But still he_warms his head with_mirth,
_   And waits for May._He_lingers_long
_  _  While_flowers fade, and_every day
_  _ _Repeats his sweet,_contented_lay;
    As if to say we need not fear
    The seasons’ change,_if love is here,
  _ With “Sweet--sweet--sweet