My Annual Call by Marian Goulah
My Annual Call (re Chaffey’s Lock) Rideau, I’ve heard you calling, Since the first south wind that blew; And, while I had not answered, My heart was e’er with you; For in my memory ’s gallery, Your scenes are everywhere, And when the world seemed lonely, I communed with you there. I see your crystal waters, Decked with a silvery sheen, Your wooded broken shorelines, Mingled with isles of green. I hear the loon’s strange calling, Waves lapping on your shore. The sky grows blue above me; My heart is sad no more. Your scenes recall sweet memories, That fonder grow with years, They fill my cup of pleasure, Yet touch the source of tears; For each day’s sun descending, Far in your golden west, Recalls the forms and faces Now numbered with the blessed. Should e’er your Summer splendours And wondrous scenes of fall, Fade with approaching winter, Without my annual call; Then mingle all your voices, Proclaiming far and wide, That one who loved you dearly, Has crossed the great divide.