You named it better than you knew
Who called yon little town Lachine,
Though through the lapse of years between
The then and now, men jeered at you.

You thought by it to find a way,
Through voiceful woods and shimmering lakes,
To where the calm Pacific breaks
On weedy ledges at Cathay.

In fancy you beheld yon tide
Upbear a thousand argosies,
Whose spicy odors filled the breeze,
And floated far on every side.

'Twas but a wish-born dream, men said,
And sneered that you were so unwise.
Blind scoffers! Would that they could rise
A few short moments from the dead,

To see how, through the power of man,
Your vision is no more a dream,
And learn that this majestic stream
Is now the highway to Japan!

From year to year, with dauntless strides,
O'er fertile plains your sons have pressed,
Portaging from the East to West,
Between the two great ocean tides.