#Canadians #Women
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…
Let those who will of friendship s… And to its guerdon grateful be, But I a lyric garland bring To crown thee, O, mine enemy! Thanks, endless thanks, to thee I…
Outside the afterlight’s lucent ro… Is smiting the hills and brimming… And shadows are stealing across th… From the mystic gloom of the pinel… Glamour of mingled night and day
My friend has gone away from me From shadow into perfect light, But leaving a sweet legacy. My heart shall hold it long in fee… A grand ideal, calm and bright,
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…
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…
Above the marge of night a star st… And on the frosty hills the sombre… Harbor an eerie wind that crooneth… Over the glimmering wastes of virg… Through the pale arch of orient th…
The dark is coming o’er the world,… And the fields where poplars stand… All our groves of green delight ha… There are voices quite unknown upo… The wind has grown too weary for a…
A gallant city has been builded fa… In the pied heaven, Bannered with crimson, sentinelled… Of crystal even; Around a harbor of the twilight gl…
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…
I smiled with skeptic mocking wher… You of the airy laughter and light… “They tell a dream that haunted a… “Death could not touch or claim a… I looked upon you coffined amid yo…
Mother of her who is close to my h… Cease to chide! For no small thing must I wander… From the tender arms and lips of m… My love with eyes like the glowing…
Now on the hill The fitful wind is so still That never a wimpling mist uplifts… Nor a trembling leaf drop-laden st… From the ancient firs
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…
If Mary had known When she held her Babe’s hands in… Little hands that were tender and… All dented with dimples from finge… Such as mothers have kissedÂ
