New Brunswick

Before it takes the air in greener shootsA seed is nurtured by surrounding soilAnd patterned by whatever streams can coilWhere worms and borers worked their slow pursuits;And though it wills to grow a crown that fruitsIn skies where lightnings break and thunders clap,It can't escape the source that feeds its sap:No tree belies its soil, outgrows its roots.

Not soft the soil where we took root together;It grew not giants but the stunted strong,Toughened by suns and bleak wintry weatherTo grow up slow and to endure for long;We have not gained to any breadth or length,And all our beauty is our stubborn strength.