REVIEWS CANADIAN POETRY. 25 



Craving as we do a native poetry, if we are to have Canadian poetry 

 at all, The " Song of Charity" takes us by guile. The dedication of the 

 tastefully executed volume " to kind friends in Orillia, Canada West," 

 tells us that the poem was " composed in chief part, during a summer's 

 holiday, on the waters and amidst the islets of little Lake Couchiching." 

 Here accordingly is genuine native inspiration. We are gliding, with 

 the author in his birch canoe, over the picturesque lake, and hailing 

 the Indian as he silently paddles past us,, under the lee of the wooded 

 islands, from the prettily named Orillia — so called after a favorite na- 

 tive flower, — to his own scattered Indian lodges at Rama. We turn 

 the page, and, as we expected, we are in the forest : 



The forest'-i faery solitude, 



The violet's haunt be mine ; 



Whei'e call the free in merry mood 



From dawn till day's decline 1 



All gentle creatures gather there 



From leafy nest and mossy lair; 



The little snakelet, golden and green, 



The pointed grass glides swift between ; 



And there the quaint-eyed Lizards play 



Throughout the long bright summer-day — 



Under the leaves in the gold sun-rain, 



To and fro' they gleam and pass, 



As the soft wind stirs the grass 



A moment and then sleeps again. 



And there, the noontides, dream the deer 



Close couched, where with crests upcurled. 



The fragrant ferns a forest rear 



Within the outer forest-world. 



And many a petalled star peeps through 



The ferny brake, when breathe anew 



The soft wiud-pantiiigs. And there too, 



The hare and the tiny leveret 



Betake them, and their fears forget — 



Lazily watching with soft brown eye 



The laden bees go sailing by, 



With many a bright -winged company 



Of gliteriug forms that come and go, 



Like twinkling waves in eea-less flow, 



Across those dreamy depths below. 



And high above on the bending bough 



Its gush of song unloosens now 



Some for-est-bird. Wild, clear, and free 



Upswells the joyous melo(]y 



In proud, quick bursts ; and then, anon, 



In the odorous silence, one by one 



