#CanadianWriters
In the silent depth of space, Immeasurably old, immeasurably far… Glittering with a silver flame Through eternity, Rolls a great and burning star,
Oh ye, who found in men’s brief wa… Of strength or help, so cast them… Your whole souls up to one ye deem… Nor failed nor doubted but held fa… Seeing before you that divine face…
Long, long ago, it seems, this sum… That pale-browed April passed wit… Through the frore woods, and from… Woke the arbutus with her silver h… And now May, too, is fled,
Methought I journeyed along ways… Throughout a happy land where stri… And life went by me flowing like a… Past sandy eyots where the shiftin… A land where beauty dwelt supreme,…
From this windy bridge at rest, In some former curious hour, We have watched the city’s hue, All along the orange west, Cupola and pointed tower,
Now the creeping nets of sleep Stretch about and gather nigh, And the midnight dim and deep Like a spirit passes by, Trailing from her crystal dress
Along the waste, a great way off,… Like tall slim priests of storm, s… The low long strip of dolorous red… The under west, where wet winds mo… The cornfields all are brown, and…
To the distance! Ah, the distance… Blue and broad and dim! Peace is not in burgh or meadow, But beyond the rim. Aye, beyond it, far beyond it;
Why do ye call the poet lonely, Because he dreams in lonely places… He is not desolate, but only Sees, where ye cannot, hidden face…
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…
The world is bright with beauty, a… Are filled with music; could we on… True ends from false, and lofty th… Could we but tear away the walls t… Our very elbows in life’s frosty w…
The trees rustle; the wind blows Merrily out of the town; The shadows creep, the sun goes Steadily over and down. In a brown gloom the moats gleam;
The dew is gleaming in the grass, The morning hours are seven, And I am fain to watch you pass, Ye soft white clouds of heaven. Ye stray and gather, part and fold…
Out of the Northland sombre weird… A shadow falleth southward day by… Sad summers arms grow cold; his fi… His feet draw back to give the ste… It is the voice and shadow of the…
Now being on the eve of death, dis… From every mortal hope and earthly… I questioned how my soul might bes… This hand, and this still wakeful… In the brief hours yet left me for…