#Canadians
Lord of my heart’s elation, Spirit of things unseen, Be thou my aspiration Consuming and serene! Bear up, bear out, bear onward
HERE in lovely New England When summer is come, a sea-turn Flutters a page of remembrance In the volume of long ago. Soft is the wind over Grand Pré
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
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…
THE play is Life; and this round… The narrow stage whereon We act before an audience Of actors dead and gone. There is a figure in the wings
Hack ad Hew were the sons of God In the earlier earth than now: One at his right hand, one at his… To obey as he taught them how. And Hack was blind, and Hew was d…
The old eternal spring once more Comes back the sad eternal way, With tender rosy light before The going-out of day. The great white moon across my doo…
First all the host of Raphael In liveries of gold, Lifted the chorus on whose rhythm The spinning spheres are rolled,– The Seraphs of the morning calm
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,
THE tall carnations crown the gar… Bowed on their stalks. Said Jock-a-dreams to John-a-nods… ‘What are the odds That we shall wake up here within…
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
HERE all the forces of the wood As one converge, To make the soul of solitude Where all things merge. The sun, the rain-wind, and the ra…
HAVE you sailed Nantucket Sound By lightship, buoy, and bell, And lain becalmed at noon On an oily summer swell? Lazily drooped the sail,
Over the wintry threshold Who comes with joy today, So frail, yet so enduring, To triumph o’er dismay? Ah, quick her tears are springing,
THIS is a holy refuge, The garden of Saint Rose, A fragrant altar to that peace The world no longer knows. Below a solemn hillside,