St Lawrence River in springtime, a poetic tribute from 1876

  The river was enchained in its mute abyss. The winter, with its long and cold nights, had covered it with a heavy network of ice.
   But at the rising of the bright spring day, the river seems to awaken as a giant, full of ignorance, he folds under the weight that oppresses him; he raises his strong shoulders, shakes and tosses off his shackles.
   The icy coat breaks into disharmonious fragments, like petrified vagaries in a stormy moment; on both banks the crystallized waves flow.
   O St. Lawrence the funeral shroud surrounded you with its folds. Black legions of crocheting crooks rushed upon you like a corpse. Leave your tomb, immortal river; tear your envelope, immense chrysalis.
   You are the vast Canadian artery. Empty your breast for the farmlands, and the flanks of your numerous vessels, feed the cities that sit on your banks. May the happy choruses of the tourists roll over, reverberate on your waves, to the hills and valleys lined with verdure; and that the steeples, scattered along your shores, shine in the eyes of the traveler, and indicate to him with their flank, the celestial object of the great journey. stripped of this garment, all wears of winter, and takes, under the staring eyes of the spring, your admirable river, your dress of azure, and a shining of various colors of praise.
  How many times, when St. Lawrence, as the soul suffers from the emptiness of human things, it is to frighten its courage in the face of your immensity.
   Then it was illuminated with dazzling brightness that burst forth from your waves, or let itself be charmed by the fury of storms, when the thunderbolts, emerging from the heart of the night, gleamed with its pale glow the terrible tumult of your waves.

-L. Gougeon L'opinion Publique 11 May 1876 (translated with Google)