THE FIELDS ARE GREEN IN CANADA.
THE fields are green in Canada,
And bloom is on the bough,
The orchards by the farmhouse
Are just a glory now;
The thorn-trees by the fences,
The lilacs by the door
Seem more intent on blooming than
They ever did before.
But there are eyes in Canada
That cannot see for tears,
And there are hearts in Canada
Grown weary with their fears,
The nesting-birds of Canada,
They pipe to deafened ears.
The April woods of Canada
Harbour the sweetest things—
A flash of lilting rapture
Mere recollection brings;
Hepaticas and violets
And all the fairy train
Run out in rosy pathways
Subdue the world again.
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