When this country it was woody, Its great champion,
Mrs.
Moody, She showed she had both pluck and push, In her work, roughing in the bush. For there all alone she will dwell, At time
Kenzie did rebel, Outbreak her husband strove to quell — Her own grand struggles she doth tell. Round bush life she threw a glory, Pioneer renowned in story; But her tale it is more cheering When she wrote about the clearing. Her other sister,
Mrs.
Traill, Though eighty-six, she doth not fail; She now is writing of wild flowers Grown in Canada's woody bowers.
