Stony Lake

By southern seas I have seen purple stones Throw back the shadows of the waves and hills. On the Ægean, so the stories run, Greek youths, with many a saffron-coloured sail, Rode flame-like to the rhythm of the gale.

Again, on the bright shores of this small lake, Purple of hills and pink of northern rocks. To-day I met a sail-boat in the wind And at its mast a brown Canadian boy-- He was as splendid as his mate of Troy.