MY OWN CANADIAN GIRL.

The demoiselles of sunny France

Have gaiety and grace;

Britannia's maids a tender glance,

A sweet and gentle face;

Columbia's virgins bring to knee

Full many a duke and earl;

But there is none can equal thee,

My own Canadian girl.

Thy hair is finer than the floss

That tufts the ears of corn;

Its tresses have a silken gloss,

A glory like the morn;

I prize the rich, luxuriant mass,

And each endearing curl

A special grace and beauty has,

My own Canadian girl.

Thy brow is like the silver moon

That sails in summer skies,

The mirror of a mind immune

From care, serene and wise,

Thy nose is sculptured ivory;

Thine ears are lobes of pearl;

Thy lips are corals from the sea,

My own Canadian girl.

Thine eyes are limpid pools of light,

The windows of thy soul;

The stars are not so clear and bright

That shine around the pole.

The crimson banners of thy cheeks

To sun and wind unfurl;

Thy tongue makes music when it speaks,

My own Canadian girl.

God keep thee fair and bright and good

As in thy morning hour,

And make thy gracious womanhood

A still unfolding flow'r.

And stay thy thoughts from trifles vain,

Thy feet from folly's whirl,

And guard thy life from every stain,

My own Canadian girl!