#CanadianWriters
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…
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
What need have you of praising? C… Some lonely poet no one praises ye… Him rather would I choose, that h… A fellow-craftsman knew him, marke… But you—the whole world praises yo…
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…
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
For The Brthday Of James Whitco… LOCKERBIE STREET is a littl… Just one block long; But the days go there with a magic… The whole year long.
THE fireflies across the dusk Are flashing signals through the g… Courageous messengers of light That dare immensities of doom. About the seeding meadow-grass,
Halleluja! What sound is this across the dark While all the earth is sleeping?… Halleluja! Halleluja! Halleluja! Why are thy tender eyes so bright,
O LIFE, dear Life, in this fair… Long since did I, it seems to me, In some mysterious doleful way Fall out of love with thee. For, Life, thou art become a ghos…
In Memory of John Keats By the Aurelian Wall, Where the long shadows of the cent… From Caius Cestius’ tomb, A weary mortal seeking rest found…
HERE by the gray north sea, In the wintry heart of the wild, Comes the old dream of thee, Guendolen, mistress and child. The heart of the forest grieves
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
IN a far Eastern country It happened long of yore, Where a lone and level sunrise Flushes the desert floor, That three kings sat together
LO, now, the journeying sun, Another day’s march done, Kindles his campfire at the edge o… And in the twilight pale Above his crimson trail,
I like the old house tolerably wel… Where I must dwell Like a familiar gnome; And yet I never shall feel quite… I love to roam.