Produced by Al Haines
Paolo's Virginia
Copyright Canada, 1919
By G. B. Warren
October Daybreak on Boundary Bay
The Last Arete
The Great Divide
Above the Clouds
Winter Sunset in the Cascade Range
Beside the Ocstall
Jansen's Curse
The Survey Cook
A Raid on the Seal Rookeries
The Coast of British Columbia
Vancouver
Victoria, B. C.
Paolo's Virginia (A Spring Phantasy)
Author's Introduction
To you who have lifted the veil of mists o'er-blown
And gazed in the eyes of dawn when night had flown—
Have felt in your hearts a thrill of sheer delight
As you scanned the scene below from some alpine height—
I extend this fleeting glimpse across a world
Of forest and meadow land—at last unfurled—
Through vistas of soaring peaks with frosted crest
In the fiorded wonderland of this—last—west.
October Daybreak on Boundary Bay
A skyline bold and clear
Of cold sharp corniced snow,
Where, bulking huge, the mass of Baker's cone
Shadows the world below.
'Tis bright with promise now!
That flood and field
Still shrouded in the mystery of night,
Will shortly be revealed.
The wildfowl on the bay
Call to the distant flight
Of ducks, that swoop from out the realms of space,
Seeking a place to light.
Sounds through the waking hours
The beating of countless wings,
Faint voices floating through the upper air
In softest whisperings.
A blush of coming day
Flooding the eastern sky,
Fresh rosy Dawn climbing the rampart hills,
Forces the night to fly:
Then from his lair the sun
Leaps forth. The fading gleam
Of silver moon and silent stars is quenched.
Day reigns once more supreme.
The Last Arete
Alpinist—
Excelsior, there's nought we may not dare!
Why, now, confess defeat, when plain in sight
Looms the stern peak—to which we've toiled and fought
Up many a mountain gorge and soaring height?
It were a shame if we should now go back
And, leaving all we've won, retrace our track.
Undaunted by the circling mists we camped,
Laid siege; while hail and snow went storming by,
Assaulted through the brilliant mists; that wrapped
A veil, impenetrable to the eye,
Around the wastes of ice, the snowfields bare
And craggy peaks that pierce the upper air.
We scorned to own defeat, when lost to sight,
'Mid cloud and snowstorm, was that summit cold;
But started out the morn e're yet the sun
The highest cornices had edged with gold.
See now! the noonday glare reveals our fate
Above a rampart white and sharp arete.
Guide—
Crevasses open-mouthed have reft the face
Of brightly gleaming ice, that upward led.
Their clear green depths a gap impassable present
Across the glacier s