RECREA TION. 



AUTUMN DAYS 

 Dr. W. H. Drummond. 



In dreams of the night I hear the call 

 Of wild duck scudding across the lake; 

 In dreams I see the old Convent wall, 

 Where Ottawa's waters surge and break. 



But Hercule awakes me ere the sun 



Has painted the eastern skies with gold. 



Hercule ! true knight of the rod and gun 

 As ever lived in the days of old. 



*' Arise ! tho' the moon hangs high above, 

 The sun will soon usher in the day, 



And the southerly wind that sportsmen love 

 Is blowing across St. Louis Bay." 



The wind is moaning among the trees, 

 Along the shore where the shadows lie, 



And faintly borne on the fresh'ning breeze 

 From yonder point comes the loon's wild cry. 



Like diamonds flashing athwart the tide 

 The dancing moonbeams quiver and glow, 



As out on the deep we swiftly glide 

 To our distant mecca, He Perrot. 



He Perrot far to the southward lies, 



Pointe Claire on the lee we leave behind, 



And eager we gaze with longing eyes 

 For faintest sign of the deadly "blind." 



Past the point where 

 Ottawa's current 

 flows — 



A league from St. 

 Lawrence' gold- 

 en sands — 



Out in the bay where the wild grass grows, 

 We mark the spot where our ambush stands. 



We enter it just as the crimson flush 

 Of morn illumines the hills with light, 



And patiently wait the first mad rush 

 Of pinions soaring in airy flight. 



A rustle of wings from over there, 

 Where all night long on watery bed 



The flocks have slept — and the morning air 

 Rings with the messenger of lead. 



Many a pilgrim from far away, 

 Many a stranger from distant seas 



Is dying to-day on St. Louis Bay, 



To requiem sung by the southern breeze. 



And thus till the sound of the vesper bell 

 Comes stealing o'er Ottawa's dusky stream, 



And the ancient light-house we know so well 

 Lights up the tide with its friendly gleam. 



Then up with the anchor and ply the oar, fl % 

 For homeward again our course must bear. 

 ^_ Farewell to the "blind" 



/^CT\ by He Perrot's shore, 



f \ ) And welcome the har- 



bor of old Pointe 

 Claire ! 



