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Far as the eye can range around,
Snow cold and crisp o'erspreads the ground;
With nothing to relieve the sight
From painful, blinding, dazzling white,
Unless the circling forests dark,
Outlining the horizon's mark.


Or, if the wild winds loudly blow,
And drift along the blinding snow,
Upheaving white mounds in their wrath,
Blockading the deep hidden path,
'Tis but another, rougher form,
Of winter's long continued storm.


And should the dark clouds disappear,
And sunshine gild the atmosphere;
Tho' all around seem bright and fair
The chill of death is in the air--
White frost the while maintains its hold,
So unrelaxing, hard and cold.


No sheltered, fertile valleys here,
Where verdure lingers all the year;
And Autumn's flowers keep in bloom,
Till Spring's first daughter's leave the tomb;
No, no, 'tis all a changeless sight,
Of lifeless, verdure-killing white.


But tho' the long-stretched winters here
Are cold and terribly severe;
The hardy natives love their clime,
And patiently await the time,
When Sol shall shine with warmer glow,
And dissipate the winter's snow.


Oft times the frost will nip your toes,
And grip you by the ears or nose;
While on your beard your breath distils,
And freezes into icicles;
And during this cold snap, or spell,
We suffer more than tongue can tell.


St. Lawrence is a ghastly sight,
A jumbled mass of black and white;
And as the tidal waters flow
The icebergs utter cries of woe,
And grind and crush, upheave and toss,
Till oft the river's bridged across.


An ice bridge formed, secure and strong,
Then daily, what a motley throng
Is on the ice; they crowd the places
Prepared for skating, sliding, races;
While carters and pedestrians go
As traffic leads them to and fro.


Here long continued frosts abound,
Which penetrate deep in the ground;
And oft our dead can't find a grave.
And must await in vault or cave,
The vernal Spring ere they can be,
Placed in their final destiny.


And such is Winter on the whole,
In this cold clime too near the pole;
And yet 'tis freer far from crime;
Than many a more congenial clime;
For Canada the home has proved,
Of peace, the loving and beloved.