When the croon of a rapid is heard on the breeze,
    With the scent of a pine-forest gloom,
    Or the edge of the sky is of steeple-top trees,
    Set in hazes of blueberry bloom,
    Or a song-sparrow sudden from quietness trills
    His delicate anthem to me,
    Then my heart hurries home to the Ottawa hills,
    Wherever I happen to be.
    When the veils of a shining lake vista unfold,
    Or the mist towers dim from a fall,
    Or a woodland is blazing in crimson and gold,
    Or a snow-shroud is covering all,
    Or there's honking of geese in the darkening sky,
    When the spring sets hepatica free,
    Then my heart's winging north as they never can fly,
    Wherever I happen to be.
    When the swallows slant curves of bewildering joy
    As the cool of the twilight descends,
    And rosy-cheek maiden and hazel-hue boy
    Listen grave while the Angelus ends
    In a tremulous flow from the bell of a shrine,
    Then a faraway mountain I see,
    And my soul is in Canada's evening shine,
    Wherever my body may be.