A rare enchantment rests upon the place
Where Gabriel wooed and won Evangeline;
On these broad, fertile dyked-lands, emerald-green,
Lies the soft spell of a romantic race.

Where winds the Gaspereau with serpent grace
Along the vale, Acadian homes have been,
On this slight mound they tell us once was seen
A cross-crowned church; here ancient willows trace

A favorite street, while in this open field
Tradition says the Acadians placed their dead.
Yonder lies Minas Basin in the sun,
Gleaming like some recumbent warrior's shield;
Above, a white mist-turban round his head,
Sheik of the land sits hoary Blomidon.