A MONTREAL LULLABY.

The swishing of passing motors,

The rumbling of city cars,

The click and the clack of horses

That sharply accent the bars,

The boom of important freighters,

The whiz of the swifter train

Which slows, with a hushing whisper

To toot of canal refrain.

And, striking its note of rawness,

The hoot of the motor horn

Is shrieking erratic discord,

To show its true Georgian scorn

Of soothing Victorian rhythm;

As sweetly and softly chimes

The old English clock in hallway.

Its tick and its tick make rhymes.

And I sink into slumber

Counting slowly their number,

Tick tick — tick tick — tick —