(Hitherto Unpublished.)
When the strong level west winds blow,
And grosbeaks crack the maple seeds,
When furry-hooded pasque-flowers show,
And musk-rats stir amid the reeds,
With running water everywhere,
With high soft clouds and crystal air,
Ah thus
Comes spring-time to Saskatchewan.
Slow lazy days of breathless heat,
Piled thunder-heads and slanting rain,
Cloud-shadows sailing o'er the wheat,
Suns that but set to rise again.
The sudden fire-fly's fairy light,
Shrill castanets of frogs at night.
Oh life,
'Tis summer in Saskatchewan!
When splintered ice-lace rims each pool,
When trails are paved with poplar-gold,
When noons are hot, but nights are cool,
And evening mists the sloughs enfold,
When our dear swallows bid good-bye,
And a red moon climbs up the sky,
Ah then,
'Tis autumn in Saskatchewan.
When bright Orion wheels his way,
And overhead the witchlights dance,
When swift, from day to bitter day.
The armies of the North advance
Blue-shadowed snow drifts, fold on fold,
Stark death-in-sleep, the crackling cold.
Ah heed,
'Tis winter in Saskatchewan.
So full our seasons, change on change,
Hope and delight, and rest and fear,
So wide we swing, so far we range,
From Pole to Circle in a year,
The wolf-fanged wind, the dust-dry snow,
Then summer, and the after-glow.
Oh heart,
Life's living in Saskatchewan.
-Christina Willey.
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