#Canadians
How the returning days, one after… Came ever in their rhythmic round,… Yet from each looped robe for ever… Some new thing falls. Happy is he Who fronts them without fear, and…
What days await this woman, whose… Breathe spells, whose presence mak… Tall, free and slender as the fore… Whose form is moulded music, throu… Frank eyes I feel the very heart’…
Far up in the wild and wintery hil… woods, Where the mounded drifts lie soft… The hut of the lonely woodcutter s… A blunted peak and a low black lin…
Before me grew the human soul, And after I am dead and gone, Through grades of effort and contr… The marvellous work shall still go… Each mortal in his little span
All day upon the garden bright The suns shines strong, But in my heart there is no light, Or any song. Voices of merry life go by,
Let us be much with Nature; not a… That labour without seeing, that e… Her unloved forces, blindly withou… Nor those whose hands and crude de… The old brute passion to hunt down…
If any man, with sleepless care op… On many a night had risen, and add… His hand to make him out of joy an… An image of sweet sleep in carven… Light touch by touch, in weary mom…
Mother of balms and soothings mani… Quiet-breathed night whose broodin… To whom the voices of all rest are… And those few stars whose scattere… Far off beyond the westward hills…
Once on the year’s last eve in my… Sitting in dreams, not sad, nor qu… Balancing all 'twixt wonder and de… Methought my body and all this wor… And vanished from me, as a dream,…
In Nino’s chamber not a sound int… Upon the midnight’s tingling silen… Where Nino sits before his book a… Thin and brow-burdened with some f… Some gloom that hangs about his mo…
AEons ago ye were, Before the struggling changeful ra… Wrought into being, ere the tragic… Of human toil and deep desire bega… So shall ye still remain,
The world in gloom and splendour p… And thou in the midst of it with b… A creature of that old distorted d… That makes the sound of life an ev… Good men perform just deeds, and b…
With a turn of his magical rod, That extended and suddenly shone, From the round of his glory some g… Looks forth and is gone. To the summit of heaven the clouds
All day, all day, round the clacki… The weaver’s fingers fly: Gray dreams like frozen mists are… In the hush of the weaver’s eye; A voice from the dusk is calling y…
There came no change from week to… On all the land, but all one way, Like ghosts that cannot touch nor… Day followed day. Within the palace court the rounds