Classic Poem

Foams thy torrent, Saguenay,
Down its dark abysmal way;
Pluto's river, stream unique,
Pent in crag-line, cliff and peak.

'Twas no fearsome weird phantasm
Blasted out that awful chasm
Where above all human reach
Yawns the hollow of La Niche.

No grim monster of the height
From the spacious womb of night
Smote the highlands till they broke
With the fury of his stroke.

'Twas no wild, relentless force
Grooved the mountains for thy course;
'Twas no giant of the cave
Cleared a channel for thy wave.

But the strong right hand of God
Smote them with volcanic rod,
When His power deep thereunder
Broke the earth's rock-robes asunder;

Bade the waters pass in state
Through that mighty river gate
Where the capes like sentries rise
To the blue wide-arching skies.

Bade the waters of St. John,
Rush impetuously on
To the sea-tides rolling back
From the shores of Tadousac.

It was Love benign, intense,
Burst into that rude defense,
Tore earth's granite robes apart,
Cooled her fever-heated heart.

Lifted to the radiant sky
Corridors of rock so high
As to fill the reverent breast
With a sense of might and rest.