Sob of fall, and song of forest, come you here on haunting quest, <br />Calling through the seas and silence, from God's country of the west. <br />Where the mountain pass is narrow, and the torrent white and strong, <br />Down its rocky-throated canyon, sings its golden-throated song. <br /> <br />You are singing there together through the God-begotten nights, <br />And the leaning stars are listening above the distant heights <br />That lift like points of opal in the crescent coronet <br />About whose golden setting sweeps the trail to Lillooet. <br /> <br />Trail that winds and trail that wanders, like a cobweb hanging high, <br />Just a hazy thread outlining mid-way of the stream and sky, <br />Where the Fraser River canyon yawns its pathway to the sea, <br />But half the world has shouldered up between its song and me. <br /> <br />Here, the placid English August, and the sea-encircled miles, <br />There-God's copper-coloured sunshine beating through the lonely aisles <br />Where the waterfalls and forest voice for ever their duet, <br />And call across the canyon on the trail to Lillooet.<br /><br />E. Pauline Johnson (Tekahionwake)<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-trail-to-lillooet-2/
