"The Trail to Lillooet" by E. Pauline Johnson
haunting quest,
Calling through the seas and silence, from God's
country of the west.
Where the mountain pass is narrow, and the torrent
white and strong,
Down its rocky-throated canon, sings its golden-
throated song.
You are singing there together through the God-
begotten nights,
And the leaning stars are listening above the dis-
tant heights
That lift like points of opal in the crescent coronet
About whose golden setting sweeps the trail to
Lillooet.
Trail that winds and trail that wanders, like a cob-
web hanging high,
Just a hazy thread outlining mid-way of the stream
and sky,
Where the Fraser River canon yawns its pathway
to the sea,
But half the world has shouldered up between its
song and me.
Here, the placid English August, and the sea-en
circled miles,
There— God's copper-coloured sunshine beating
through the lonely aisles
Where the waterfalls and forest voice for ever their
duet,
And call across the canon on the trail to Lillooet.