#Canadians
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…
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
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
Harvard, 1914 SIR, friends, and scholars, we ar… A high occasion. Our New England… All her unrivalled beauty as of ol… And June, with scent of bayberry…
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,
HAVE you sailed Nantucket Sound By lightship, buoy, and bell, And lain becalmed at noon On an oily summer swell? Lazily drooped the sail,
WE are the roadside flowers, Straying from garden grounds,— Lovers of idle hours, Breakers of ordered bounds. If only the earth will feed us,
When all the stars are sown Across the night-blue space, With the immense unknown, In silence face to face. We stand in speechless awe
ONCE I walked the world enchante… Through the scented woods of sprin… Hand in hand with Love, in raptur… Just to hear a bluebird sing. Now the lonely winds of autumn
When I was just a little boy, Before I went to school, I had a fleet of forty sail I called the Ships of Yule; Of every rig, from rakish brig
To H. E. C. THERE are sunflowers too in my g… Where now in the early September… The slow autumn sun that goes leis… Of life in the orchards and fir-wo…
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…
NOW the little rivers go Muffled safely under snow, And the winding meadow streams Murmur in their wintry dreams, While a tinkling music wells
WHEN I am only fit to go to bed, Or hobble out to sit within the su… Ring down the curtain, say the pla… And the last petals of the poppy s… I do not want to live when I am o…
I heard the spring wind whisper Above the brushwood fire, ‘The world is made forever Of transport and desire. ’I am the breath of being,
