#Canadians
Crown her with stars, this angel o… Cover her with morning, this thing… Mantle her with midnight till a mo… See her for the garments of the li… How far I wandered, worlds away a…
Here is the height of land: The watershed on either hand Goes down to Hudson Bay Or Lake Superior; The stars are up, and far away
Creep into my heart, creep in, cre… Afar from the fret, the toil and t… Where the spring of love forever f… As clear as light and as sweet as… (Creep into my heart),
Lay him down where the fern is thi… Fain was he for life, here lies he… With the blood washed clean from h… Lay him here in the dell where the… Let the birch-bark torches roar in…
I DWELL in the sea that is wild… But afar in a shadow still, I can see the trees that gather an… In the wood upon the hill. The deeps are green as an emerald’…
The night is old, and all the worl… Is wearied out with strife; A long gray mist lies heavy and wa… Above the house of life. Four stars burn up and are unquell…
WHEN the deep cunning architect Had the great minster planned, They worked in faith for twice two… And reared the building grand; War came and famine and they did n…
March wind rough Clashed the trees, Flung the snow; Breaking stones, In the cold,
The shore-lark soars to his topmos… Sings at the height where morning… What though his voice be lost in t… The light comes dropping from his… Mount, my soul, and sing at the he…
An angel burdened with self-pity Came out of heaven to a modern cit… He saw a beggar on the street, Where the tides of traffic meet. A pair of brass-bound hickory pegs
Gentle angel with your mantle, All of tender green, I was yearning for a vision Of the life unseen. When you hovered in the sunset,
Gather the leaves from the forest And blow them over the world, The wind of winter follows The wind of autumn furled. Only the beech tree cherishes
Here in the pungent gloom Where the tamarac roses glow And the balsam burns its perfume, A vireo turns his slow Cadence, as if he gloated
She is free of the trap and the pa… The portage and the trail, But something behind her savage li… Shines like a fragile veil. Her dreams are undiscovered,
Rufus Gale speaks—1852 Yes,—in the Lincoln Militia,—in t… Many’s the day I’ve had since the… But those are the years I remembe… When we left the plow in the furro…