#Canadians
March is slain; the keen winds fly… Nothing more is thine to do; April kisses thee good-bye; Thou must haste and follow too; Silent friend that guarded well
A little while, a year agone, I knew her for a romping child, A dimple and a glance that shone With idle mischief when she smiled… To-day she passed me in the press,
Why weep ye in your innocent toil… Sweet little hands, why halt and t… Full many a wrong note falls, but… Each note to me is like a golden g… Each broken cadence like a mournin…
Canst thou not rest, O city, That liest so wide and fair; Shall never an hour bring pity, Nor end be found for care? Thy walls are high in heaven,
I lie upon my bed and hear and see… The moon is rising through the gli… And momently a great and sombre br… With a vast voice returning fitful… Comes like a deep-toned grief, and…
Harsh thoughts, blind angers, and… That keep this restless world at s… Mean passions that, like choking s… Perplex the stream of life, Pride and hot envy and cold greed,
What are these bustlers at the gat… Of now or yesterday, These playthings in the hand of F… That pass, and point no way; These clinging bubbles whose mock…
Songs that could span the earth, When leaping thought had stirred t… In many an hour since birth, We heard or dreamed we heard them. Sometimes to all their sway
Though fancy and the might of rhym… That turneth like the tide, Have borne me many a musing time, Beloved, from thy side. Ah yet, I pray thee, deem not, Sw…
Yearning upon the faint rose-curve… About her child-sweet mouth and in… And in her eyes watching with eyes… The light and shadow of laughter,… Mute, knowing out two souls might…
Mad with love and laden With immortal pain, Pan pursued a maiden— Pan, the god—in vain. For when Pan had nearly
Belovèd, those who moan of love’s… Shall find but little grace with m… Who know too well this passion’s t… To deem that it shall lightly pass… A moment’s interlude in life’s dul…
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
Think not, oh master of the well-t… This earth is only thine; for afte… When all is sown and gathered and… Comes the grave poet with creative… And from these silent acres and cl…