#CanadianWriters
Now the November skies, And the clouds that are thin and g… That drop with the wind away; A flood of sunlight rolls, In a tide of shallow light,
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…
Where love is life The roses blow, Though winds be rude And cold the snow, The roses climb
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’…
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…
Nurture thyself, O Soul, from the… That wells beneath the secret inne… Commune with its deep murmur,—'tis… Be faithful to the ebb and flow th… The outer tide of Spirit to troub…
The Earth moans in her sleep Like an old mother Whose sons have gone to the war, Who weeps silently in her heart Till dreams comfort her.
Here at the roots of the mountains… Between the sombre legions of ceda… The rapids charge the ravine: A little light, cast by foam under… Wavers about the shimmering stems…
O if love were had for asking, In the markets of the town, Hardly a lass would think to wear A fine silken gown: But love is had by grieving
This silver-edged geranium leaf Is one sign of a bitter grief Whose symbols are a myriad more; They cluster round a carven stone Where she who sleeps is never alon…
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…
Those who die on Christmas Day (I heard the triumphant Seraph sa… Will be remembered, for they died Upon the Holy Christmastide; When they attain to Paradise,
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
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…
A deep bell that links the downs To the drowsy air; Every loop of sound that swoons, Finds a circle fair, Whereon it doth rest and fade;