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Thus by blue Ontario's shore,

While the winds fann'd me and the waves came trooping toward me,

I thrill'd with the power's pulsations, and the charm of my theme was upon me,

Till the tissues that held me parted their ties upon me.

And I saw the free souls of poets,

The loftiest bards of past ages strode before me,

Strange large men, long unwaked, undisclosed, were disclosed to me.

O my rapt verse, my call, mock me not!

Not for the bards of the past, not to invoke them have I launch'd you forth,

Not to call even those lofty bards here by Ontario's shores,

Have I sung so capricious and loud my savage song.

Bards for my own land only I invoke,

(For the war the war is over, the field is clear'd,)

Till they strike up marches henceforth triumphant and onward,

To cheer O Mother your boundless expectant soul.

Bards of the great Idea! bards of the peaceful inventions! (for the war, the war is over!)

Yet bards of latent armies, a million soldiers waiting ever-ready,

Bards with songs as from burning coals or the lightning's fork'd stripes!

Ample Ohio's, Kanada's bards—bards of Cahfornia! inland bards—bards of the war!

You by my charm I invoke. 



