By W.P. WILLIAMS
I dreampt I met a maiden fair
With maple leaves around her brow;
I spoke to the maiden, and I said: -
"Pray, answer me a question, now.
"The question is: ‘What shall I do
To realize my people's dreams,
To hitch their waggon to the star
Of Hope, which through the darkness gleams?
"Their fathers ate the sour grapes,
The children's teeth are set on edge;
And now they see, with failing faith,
The shattered dream, the broken pledge.
"My people seek a fuller life,
With social justice for them all;
To face the Future free from fear,
Which seeks to hold the soul in thrall."
She gazed at me with charming smile,
And clasped my hand in greeting,
And e'er since then I oft recall
The pleasure of that meeting.
"Your problem, Newfoundland," she said,
"Is now well-known in my own land,
For isolation e'er retards
The progress of your thrifty Island.
"There's but one answer, I can give
To you for your consideration:
Your governmental gods have failed,
Now why not try Confederation?"
She pointed to a sun-lit road,
O'er which a rainbow, bending,
Gave promise of bright, new dawn,
My people's troubles ending.
Let's spread our wings toward that Dawn,
And find in Canada our dream -
The status of a Nation!
From W.P. Williams, "Newfoundland's Dream," The Confederate,
21 April 1948, p. 1.
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