The Oxford Book of Canadian Verse
OttawaJames E. Caldwell
G
Beauty encompasseth thy mien;
The glory of the North alone,
Is thine, O Ottawa, my Queen.
Shall gather all a nation’s pride;
The great of intellect and soul
Shall build a city, vast and wide.
For ever caught in burnished bronze;
Roof, tower, and column, nobly plann’d,
Shall greet the future’s mystic dawns.
Strange kindness to the toiler show;
Here o’er the steel, the watery path,
The East and West commingling flow.
To hunger, thirst, and sore distress,
Be met before their cruel need
By trade shorn of its sordidness.
In sunless lairs bereft of sky;
Nor Death be hidden in the lees
Of fountains which man’s needs supply.
Well recking of the trusts they bear;
Unbought of wealth, unawed by knave,
The truth shall modestly declare.
The hoarded lore of every age
Shall gather gladsome companies
Of lovers of the printed page.
Be set to common speech once more,
And noble deeds shall daily bless
Of which men only dreamed before.
To all that most endures in man,
Rebuking hate and strident zeal,
For ah, how brief our breathing span!
Wise, fair, strong, joyous and serene—
Once more accept my fealty—
My love, O Ottawa, my Queen!