#Canadians
Soul, what art thou in the tribes… LORD, said a flying fish, Below the foundations of storm We feel the primal wish Of the earth take form.
Hem and Haw were the sons of sin, Created to shally and shirk; Hem lay ‘round and Haw looked on While God did all the work. Hem was a fogy, and Haw was a pri…
AT the end of the road through th… I see the great moon rise. The fields are flooded with shine, And my soul with surmise. What if that mystic orb
Make me over, Mother April, When the sap beings to stir! When thy flowery hand delivers All the mountain-prisoned rivers, And thy great heart beats and quiv…
(Sappho LXXIV) If death be good, Why do the gods not die? If life be ill, Why do the gods still live?
The sun goes down, and over all These barren reaches by the tide Such unelusive glories fall, I almost dream they yet will bide Until the coming of the tide.
O all the little rivers that run t… They call me and call me to follow… Missinaibi, Abitibi, Little Curr… Dancing and sparkling I see them… I hear the brawling rapid, the thu…
HAVE you sailed Nantucket Sound By lightship, buoy, and bell, And lain becalmed at noon On an oily summer swell? Lazily drooped the sail,
The lover of child Marjory Had one white hour of life brim fu… Now the old nurse, the rocking sea… Hath him to lull. The daughter of child Marjory
One August day I sat beside A café window open wide To let the shower-fresh ened air Blow in across the Plaza, where In golden pomp against the dark
THE sleeping tarn is dark Below the wooded hill. Save for its homing sounds, The twilit world grows still. And I am left to muse
I HEAR a rainbird singing Far off. How fine and clear His plaintive voice comes ringing With rapture to the ear! Over the misty wood-lots,
IT is the mellow season When gold enchantment lies On stream and road and woodland, To gladden soul’s surmise. The little old grey homesteads
FOR a name unknown, Whose fame unblown Sleeps in the hills For ever and aye; For her who hears
I thank thee, Earth, for water go… The sea’s great bath of buoyant gr… Or the cold mountain torrent’s flo… That I may keep this body clean. I thank thee more for goodly wine,