Poem By Dr. H.N. McLeod
The street looked the same
more dusty perhaps, the buildings older
The gas station more elaborate.
The people were different
Where had the others gone?
To many places, to Valhalla, to the city.
There was a voice which asked
"Who are you and where have you been"?
I said, "I'd been seeking the grail,
I thought I'd found it at Lake Katepwa
but a muskrat had taken it
and told his fellows that it must be hidden
under the ice in the deep mud by the rushes
so that it would be safe from the ravages of the cold
and the wind and the hot sun".
I asked, "Would it ever be found
and by whom"?
The voice said, "By a young man
with blonde hair and pale blue eyes
who comes from the north country
and has talked with angels
and they have told him where it is".
I asked, "When will this be"?
The voice said, "When the sky is
deep red and there is a deep hush
and the soft music of mandolins
is heard and the land is ready".