#CanadianWriters
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…
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
Where are the ships I used to kno… That came to port on the Fundy ti… Half a century ago, In beauty and stately pride? In they would come past the beacon…
The lover of child Marjory Had one white hour of life brim fu… Now the old nurse, the rocking sea… Hath him to lull. The daughter of child Marjory
ALONG the wintry skyline, Crowning the rocky crest, Stands the bare screen of hardwood… Against the saffron west,— Its gray and purple network
The swarthy bee is a buccaneer, A burly velveted rover, Who loves the booming wind in his… As he sails the seas of clover. A waif of the goblin pirate crew,
Lord of my heart’s elation, Spirit of things unseen, Be thou my aspiration Consuming and serene! Bear up, bear out, bear onward
WHEN the first silent frost has… The ghost-yard of the goldenrod, And laid the blight of his cold ha… Upon the warm autumnal land, And all things wait the subtle cha…
MY heart is a garden of dreams Where you walk when day is done, Fair as the royal flowers, Calm as the lingering sun. Never a drouth comes there,
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,
We are as mendicants who wait Along the roadside in the sun. Tatters of yesterday and shreds Of morrow clothe us every one. And some are dotards, who believe
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
A. M. M. BEHOLD her sitting in the sun This lovely April morn, As eager with the breath of life As daffodils new-born!
ONCE more in misted April The world is growing green. Along the winding river The plumey willows lean. Beyond the sweeping meadows
Over the hills of April With soft winds hand in hand, Impassionate and dreamy-eyed, Spring leads her saraband. Her garments float and gather