A Summer Evening Scene in Chateauguay

Often, when the sun is sinking

O'er the mountain's glowing crest,

When the earth and heaven are linking

In that bond of peaceful rest;

Then, the weary city spurning,

On this grand repose I gaze,

And my mind, in fancy turning,

Dwells on scenes of childhood's days.

And I float upon the river

At the selfsame time of day,

When the sparkling waters quiver

‘ Neath the slanting evening ray.

Day's harsh memories forsaking

With its jarring and its jest,

For the soul is but awaking

As the day is lulled to rest.

Glimpse of even's glory getting

As the summer sun serene,

In his softened splendour setting,

Gilds the spires of Ste. Martine;

Glimmers through the silent bushes,

Glances on the birchen stems;

Casts perchance his fitful blushes

On the paddle, dripping gems.

And the hue of gold is deeper

On the cornfields by the stream;

And the sickle of the reaper

Flashes brightly in his beam.

And the fruits, of late commencing

To indue their glowing tint,

Richest beauty are enhancing

As they catch his gentle glint.

Now he greets the gaudy dresses

Of the lightsome Gallic maids,

Rivals through their raven tresses

Eyes of jet beneath their braids

As the peasant party gathers

Gaily for the sportive dance,

As of old have done their fathers

In the sunny vales of France.

But the night is falling thicker,

And the twilight soon will cease,

So I paddle on the quicker

Past where Beauty reigns with Peace;

Where the little brooks deliver

Water laughing in its glee,

Or the murky English River

Mingles with the Chateauguay.