My Montreal—not of today;
But when the sleigh-bells tuned the sky,
Gave music to each glancing ray
That gemmed the snow; then left to lie
In soft and deep accordancy
With winter’s prodigal desire.
The tinglish air was light with glee:
It laved a world in pure white attire.
The spacious homes in garden-plots
And here and there a fair plaisance
Belched little smoke—when came sad blots,
A pallid storm renewed romance.
For that is how I think of you,
My Montreal of long ago:
Our town progresses—that is true—
But lost the whiteness of the snow.

Source: Amy Redpath Roddick, The Iroquois Enjoy a Perfect Day, A Chance Meeting, and other Poems (Montreal: John Dougall & Son, 1939), 60

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