#CanadianWriters
What do poets want with gold, Cringing slaves and cushioned ease… Are not crusts and garments old Better for their souls than these? Gold is but the juggling rod
Once ye were happy, once by many a… Wherever Glooscap’s gentle feet m… Lulled by his presence like a drea… Floating at rest; but that was lon… He was too good for earthly men; h…
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
Mother, to whose valiant will Battling long ago, What the heaping years fulfil, Light and song, I owe; Send my little book afield,
From plains that reel to southward… The road runs by me white and bare… Up the steep hill it seems to swim Beyond, and melt into the glare. Upward half-way, or it may be
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…
Beside the pounding cataracts Of midnight streams unknown to us ’Tis builded in the leafless tract… And valleys huge of Tartarus. Lurid and lofty and vast it seems;
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,
On such a day the shrunken stream Spends its last water and runs dry… Clouds like far turrets in a dream Stand baseless in the burning sky. On such a day at every rod
Comfort the sorrowful with watchfu… In silence, for the tongue cannot… Vex not his wounds with rhetoric,… Worn truths, that are but maddenin… To him whose grief outmasters all…
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…
How the returning days, one after… Came ever in their rhythmic round,… Yet from each looped robe for ever… Some new thing falls. Happy is he Who fronts them without fear, and…
Far in the grim Northwest beyond… That turn the rivers eastward to t… Set with a thousand islands, crown… Lies the deep water, wild Temagam… Wild for the hunter’s roving, and…
Beloved, those who moan of love’s… Shall find but little grace with m… Who know too well this passion’s t… To deem that it shall lightly pass… A moment’s interlude in life’s dul…
Heavy with haze that merges and me… Into the measureless depth on eith… The full day rests upon the lumino… In one long noon of golden reverie… Now hath the harvest come and gone…