English Bay

The ships lie out on English Bay
 Bright-lit like floating beacons
 Vancouver with her spangled hands
 And accents of exotic strands
 Bears every ship toward day

Ice lies outside my lady’s walls
 Three thousand miles between us
 Ojibwa winds blot out the sun
 Wail winter which has just begun
 Shriek death from frozen halls

I would be sad to turn from this
 And fly back east to winter
 Except that English Bay’s allure
 Without her here seems bare and poor
 True spring requires her kiss