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Young Canada with mighty
force sweeps on
To gain in power and strength
before the dawn
That brings another era, when
the sun
Shall rise again, but sadly
shine upon
Her Indian graves and Indian
memories.
For as the carmine in the
twilight skies
Will fade as night comes on, as
fades the race
That unto Might and doubtful
Right gives place.
And as white clouds float
hurriedly and high
Across the crimson of a sunset
sky
Altho' their depths are foamy as
the snow
Their beauty lies in their
vermillion glow.
So, Canada, thy plumes were
hardly won
Without allegiance from thy
Indian son.
Thy glories, like the cloud,
enhance their charm
With red reflections from the
Mohawk's arm.
Then meet we as one common
brotherhood
In peace and love, with purpose
understood
To lift a lasting tribute to the
name
Of Brant, who linked his own
with Britain's fame.
Who bade his people leave their
Valley Home
Where nature her fairest aspects
shone,
Where rolls the Mohawk River and
the land
Is blest with every good from
Heaven's hand,
To sweep the tide of home
affections back
And love the land where waves
the Union Jack.
What tho' that home no longer
ours? Today
The Six Red Nations have their
Canada.
And rest we here, no cause for
us to rise
To seek protection under other
skies.
Encircling us an arm both true
and brave
Extends from far across the
great salt wave.
Tho' but a woman's arm, 'tis
firm, and strong
Enough to guard us from all fear
of wrong,
An arm on which all British
subjects lean --
The loving hand of England's
noble Queen.
Tekahionwake
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Chiefswood |
October 8th, 1886 |
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