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.

ONCE more in misted April The world is growing green. Along the winding river The plumey willows lean. Beyond the sweeping meadows

OH, but life went gaily, gaily, In the house of Idiedaily! There were always throats to sing Down the river-banks with spring, When the stir of heart’s desire

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

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…

THERE is a world of being We range from pole to pole, Through seasons of the spirit And weather of the soul. It has its new-born Aprils,

NOW the fire is lighted On the chimney stone, Day goes down the valley, I am left alone. Now the misty purple

SHINING, shining children Of the summer rain, Racing down the valley, Sweeping o’er the plain! Rushing through the forest,

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…

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…

WHEN morning is high o’er the hi… On river and stream and lake, Wherever a young breeze whispers, The sun-clad dancers wake. One after one up-springing,

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,

NOW come the rosy dogwoods, The golden tulip-tree, And the scarlet yellow maple, To make a day for me. The ash-trees on the ridges,

‘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…

IN the wondrous star-sown night, In the first sweet warmth of sprin… I lie awake and listen To hear the glad earth sing. I hear the brook in the wood