#CanadianWriters
OH, well the world is dreaming Under the April moon, Her soul in love with beauty, Her senses all a-swoon! Pure hangs the silver crescent
MORTAL, mortal, have you seen In the scented summer night, Great Astarte, clad in green With a veil of mystic light, Passing on her silent way,
ONCE in the Workshop, ages ago, The clay was wet and the fire was… And He who was bent on fashioning… Moulded a shape from a clod, And put the loyal heart therein;
NOW the lilac tree’s in bud, And the morning birds are loud. Now a stirring in the blood Moves the heart of every crowd. Word has gone abroad somewhere
A Threnody for Robert Louis Stev… COLD, the dull cold! What ails t… And takes the heart out of the day… What makes the morning look so mea… The Common so forlorn and gray?
IN the Garden of Eden, planted b… There were goodly trees in the spr… Trees of beauty and height and gra… To stand in splendor before His f… Apple and hickory, ash and pear,
I SAID to Life, ‘How comes it, With all this wealth in store, Of beauty, joy, and knowledge, Thy cry is still for more? ’Count all the years of striving
Over the shoulders and slopes of t… I saw the white daisies go down to… A host in the sunshine, an army in… The people God sends us to set ou… The bobolinks rallied them up from…
THE hilltop trees are bowing Under the coming of storm. The low gray clouds are trailing Like squadrons that sweep and form… With their ammunition of rain.
WHEN you hear the white-throat p… From a tree-top far away, And the hills are touched with pur… At the borders of the day; When the redwing sounds his whistl…
OVER the wintry threshold Who comes with joy to-day, So frail, yet so enduring, To triumph o’er dismay? Ah, quick her tears are springing,
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.
This was a leader of the sons of l… Of winsome cheer and strenuous com… Upon the veteran hordes of Bigot-… All day his vanguard spirit, flami… Bore up the brunt of unavailing fi…
NOW the joys of the road are chie… A crimson touch on the hard-wood t… A vagrant’s morning wide and blue, In early fall, when the wind walks… A shadowy highway cool and brown,
‘DUSTMAN, dustman!’ Through the deserted square he cri… And babies put their rosy fists Into their eyes. There’s nothing out of No-man’s-l…