The Laurentian Hills 215 



THE LAURENTIAN HILLS 



I am riding on a railway that spans from sea to 



sea; 

 Bocking on earth's throbbing bosom, for my iron 



horse is free; 

 How the scenes stretch out before me, as the 



coaches eastward roll, 

 I am riding on the 0. P. and to it I'm paying toll. 



I have reached a waste of waters, Superior's 



mighty flood 

 Indent the land before me, encroach the silent 



wood; 

 For the vale, and gulch and valley, ever packed 



with spruces green, 

 Mixed with the yellow poplar ; with white barked 



birch between. 



The earth itself is covered with its own founda- 

 tion rock. 



Granite, Gneiss and Green Stone, in many a 

 mighty block, 



Carved and rounded by the Ice Cap, that once 

 covered all the land: 



They rise in hill and butress like some ancient 

 castle grand. 



Birches standing, with trunks as white as snow, 



