#CanadianWriters
When the sun sets over the long bl… I spring from my couch of rest, And I hurtle and boom over league… That toss in the weltering west, I pipe a hymn to the headlands hig…
I like to think of the many words The Master in his early days Must have spoken to them of Nazar… Words not freighted with life and… Piercing through soul and heart li…
Here on a hill of the occident sta… Comrades tried and true through a… Spring harps glad laughter through… Sing us again the songs of ancient… The glory of sunrise smites on our…
The moon comes up o’er the deeps o… And the long, low dingles that hid… Where the ancient beeches are mois… Over the pools and the whimpering… And with her the mists, like dryad…
I thank thee, friend, for the beau… That in words well chosen thou gav… Deep in the life of my soul it has… With its own rare essence to ever… To gleam like a star over devious…
Come back to me, little dancing fe… I long for the lilt of your flying… Come back to me, little voices gay… Come back, little hearts beating h… My roses bloom in my garden walks…
Last night a pale young Moon was… Unto the amorous, eager Sea; Her maiden veil of mist she wore His kingly purple vesture, he. With her a bridal train of stars
Come, for the dusk is our own; let… With a quiet delight in our hearts… Through the rustling valley and wo… Under a high-sprung sky, winnowed… Sharp is the frosty air, and throu…
I walked to-day, but not alone, Adown a windy, sea-girt lea, For memory, spendthrift of her cha… Peopled the silent lands for me. The faces of old comradeship
Through the pungent hours of the a… On the autumn slopes we have light… Where the sunshine lay in a golden… And the lingering year all its swe… Oh, it was blithesome to roam at w…
Come, rest awhile, and let us idly… In glimmering valleys, cool and fa… Come from the greedy mart, the tro… And listen to the music, faint and… That echoes ever to a listening ea…
When the lucent skies of morning f… And waves of golden glory break ad… And o’er the arch of heaven pied f… There’s joyance and there’s freedo… The wind is blowing freshly up fro…
Searching the pile of corpses the victors found four Frenchmen still breathing. Three had scarcely a spark of life . . . the fourth seemed likely to survive and they reserved him for...
We were out on the hills that nigh… To watch our sheep; Drowsily by the fire we lay Where the waning flame did flicker… And some were weary and half aslee…
Surely the flowers of a hundred sp… Are simply the souls of beautiful… The poppies aflame with gold and r… Were the kisses of lovers in days… The purple pansies with dew-drops…