THE LAND THAT LIES NORTH OF THE SOO
Some sing of the glories of Egypt,
Of Switzerland's mountains and plain
Some prate of old Italy's grandeur,
Or the dream-built castles of Spain ;
Some rave o'er the beauties of Venice
Where the skies are eternally blue —
But to me the land of enchantment
Is the land that lies north of the Soo.
No markets are there to annoy me.
Nor mills filling earth with their roar;
No need for a priest to admonish,
Repeating his tales o'er and o'er.
There silence and solitude soothing
My mind and my soul both renew.
Sweet peace and abiding contentment
And God live north of the Soo.
The murmuring music of masters
I hear in the Chippewa's song,
A lullaby low midst its eddies;
A chant where it hurries along;
'Til my heart is uplifted in rapture
And my soul seeks its heaven anew —
O, it's easy to walk with the Master
In the land that lies north of the Soo.
— L. A. Foster.
Hunter-Trader-Trapper. October: 1921,
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