Shy Bird Of The Silver Arrows Of Song, That Cleave Our Northern Air So Clear, Thy Notes Prolong, Prolong, I Listen, I Hear: "I - Love - Dear - Canada, Canada, Canada." O Plumes Of The Pointed Dusky Fir, Screen Of A Swelling Patriot Heart, The Copse Is All Astir, And Echoes Thy Part!... Now Willowy Reeds Tune Their Silver Flutes As The Noise Of The Day Dies Down; And Silence Strings Her Lutes, The Whitethroat To Crown.... O Bird Of The Silver Arrows Of Song, Shy Poet Of Canada Dear, Thy Notes Prolong, Prolong, We Listen, We Hear: "I - Love - Dear - Canada, Canada, Canada."