when the croon of a rapid is heard on the breeze,

with the scent of a pine-forest gloom,

or the edge of the sky is of steeple-top trees,

set in hazes of blueberry bloom,

or a song-sparrow sudden from quietness trills

his delicate anthem to me,

then my heart hurries home to the ottawa hills,

wherever i happen to be.

when the veils of a shining lake vista unfold,

or the mist towers dim from a fall,

or a woodland is blazing in crimson and gold,

or a snow-shroud is covering all,

or there's honking of geese in the darkening sky,

when the spring sets hepatica free,

then my heart's winging north as they never can fly,

wherever i happen to be.

when the swallows slant curves of bewildering joy

as the cool of the twilight descends,

and rosy-cheek maiden and hazel-hue boy

listen grave while the angelus ends

in a tremulous flow from the bell of a shrine,

then a faraway mountain i see,

and my soul is in canada's evening shine,

wherever my body may be.