Friday, December 2, 2016

The Weeping Branch

O country of sweet sheaves, hear my humble invitation;
The branches are weeping.
There has been a struggle in the baser realms,
The virtue of the earth has been shaken.
I bring with me the spirit of Canada,
A pleading to your noble station.

The world has seen your heart despised.
I spoke to you and you replied.
When I sing of revolution in the dead of night,
   you hear.
Then answer me with all your might.

This is the moment of the turning,
   and it is not for the weak;
Much is at stake.
I prophesied the sanguine salt was guileless,
And chunks of coal were your revenge in darkness.
The oyster sun spoke over the sea,
Churning the machinery of democracy.

O Canada:
I was born into the quiet moments of Windsor,
I am a prophet under the order of Samuel.
Canada’s gates will never be shut;
I am last to call my people home.
I am in it ’till the bitter end.

Emily Isaacson