#CanadianWriters
Broad shadows fall. On all the mo… The scythe-swept fields are silent… By the long beach the high-piled h… Splashing the pale salt shallows.… Fawn-coloured wastes of mud the sl…
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…
Under the day-long sun there is li… In the working earth, And the wonderful moon shines brig… Through the soft spring night, The innocent flowers in the limitl…
By the Nile, the sacred river, I can see the captive hordes, Strain beneath the lash and quiver At the long papyrus cords, While in granite rapt and solemn,
Not, not for thee, Belovèd child, the burning grasp… Shall bruise the tender soul. The… And clamor of midday thou shalt no… But wrapped for ever in thy quiet…
Subtly conscious, all awake, Let us clear our eyes, and break Through the cloudy chrysalis, See the wonder as it is. Down a narrow alley, blind,
Not to be conquered by these headl… But to stand free: to keep the min… On life’s deep meaning, nature’s a… Of loveliness, and time’s mysterio… At every thought and deed to clear…
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
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,…
The sun looks over a little hill And floods the valley with gold– A torrent of gold; And the hither field is green and… Beyond it a cloud outrolled,
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…
No girdle hath weaver or goldsmith… So rich as the arms of my love can… No gems with a lovelier lustre fra… Than her eyes, when they answer me… Dear lady of love, be kind to me
Already in the dew-wrapped vineyar… Dense weights of heat press down.… Shrink in the leaves. From dark a… The nuthatch flings his short reit… And ever as the sun mounts hot and…
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…
The point is turned; the twilight… The wheeling stream, the soft rece… And on our ears from deep among th… Breaks now the rapid’s sudden quic… Ah yet the same, or have they chan…