#CanadianWriters
March is slain; the keen winds fly… Nothing more is thine to do; April kisses thee good-bye; Thou must haste and follow too; Silent friend that guarded well
The sun falls warm: the southern w… The air seethes upwards with a ste… Each dip of the road is now a crys… And every rut a little dancing riv… Through great soft clouds that sun…
There is no break in all the wide… Nor light on any field, and the wi… And talks of death. Where cold gr… Round greyer stones, and the new-f… Heap the chill hollows of the nake…
Now being on the eve of death, dis… From every mortal hope and earthly… I questioned how my soul might bes… This hand, and this still wakeful… In the brief hours yet left me for…
O gentle sister spirit, when you s… My soul is like a lonely coral isl… An islet shadowed by a single palm… Ringed round with reef and foam, b… And all day long I listen to the…
Scarcely a breath about the rocky… Moved, but the growing tide from v… Heaving salt fragrance on the midn… Climbed with a murmurous and fitfu… A hoary mist rose up and slowly sh…
Even as I watched the daylight ho… From noon till eve, and saw the li… In long pale waves across the flas… And heard through all my dreams, w… The thin cicada singing overhead,
It fell on a day I was happy, And the winds, the concave sky, The flowers and the beasts in the… Seemed happy even as I; And I stretched my hands to the m…
With a turn of his magical rod, That extended and suddenly shone, From the round of his glory some g… Looks forth and is gone. To the summit of heaven the clouds
O little one, daughter, my dearest… With your smiles and your beautifu… And your laughter, the brightest a… O gravest and gayest of girls; With your hands that are softer th…
Underneath a tree at noontide Abu Midjan sits distressed, Fetters on his wrists and ancles, And his chin upon his breast; For the Emir’s guard had taken,
With loitering step and quiet eye, Beneath the low November sky, I wandered in the woods, and found A clearing, where the broken groun… Was scattered with black stumps an…
Mad with love and laden With immortal pain, Pan pursued a maiden— Pan, the god—in vain. For when Pan had nearly
Here when the cloudless April day… And the quaint crows flock thicker… Filling the forests with a pleasan… And the soiled snow creeps secretl… Comes the small busy sparrow, prim…
Let us be much with Nature; not a… That labour without seeing, that e… Her unloved forces, blindly withou… Nor those whose hands and crude de… The old brute passion to hunt down…