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| MARIAN DRURY, Marian Drury, | |
| How are the marshes full of the sea! | |
| Acadie dreams of your coming home | |
| All year through, and her heart gets free,— | |
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| Free on the trail of the wind to travel, | 5 |
| Search and course with the roving tide, | |
| All year long where his hands unravel | |
| Blossom and berry the marshes hide. | |
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| Marian Drury, Marian Drury, | |
| How are the marshes full of the surge! | 10 |
| April over the Norland now | |
| Walks in the quiet from verge to verge. | |
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| Burying, brimming, the building billows | |
| Fret the long dikes with uneasy foam. | |
| Drenched with gold weather, the idling willows | 15 |
| Kiss you a hand from the Norland home. | |
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| Marian Drury, Marian Drury, | |
| How are the marshes full of the sun! | |
| Blomidon waits for your coming home, | |
| All day long where the white wings run. | 20 |
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| All spring through they falter and follow, | |
| Wander, and beckon the roving tide, | |
| Wheel and float with the veering swallow, | |
| Lift you a voice from the blue hillside. | |
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| Marian Drury, Marian Drury, | 25 |
| How are the marshes full of the rain! | |
| April over the Norland now | |
| Bugles for rapture, and rouses pain,— | |
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| Halts before the forsaken dwelling, | |
| Where in the twilight, too spent to roam, | 30 |
| Love, whom the fingers of death are quelling, | |
| Cries you a cheer from the Norland home. | |
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| Marian Drury, Marian Drury, | |
| How are the marshes filled with you! | |
| Grand Pré dreams of your coming home,— | 35 |
| Dreams while the rainbirds all night through, | |
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| Far in the uplands calling to win you, | |
| Tease the brown dusk on the marshes wide; | |
| And never the burning heart within you | |
| Stirs in your sleep by the roving tide. | 40 |
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