#CanadianWriters
To-day the world is wide and fair With sunny fields of lucid air, And waters dancing everywhere; The snow is almost gone; The noon is builded high with ligh…
Along the waste, a great way off,… Like tall slim priests of storm, s… The low long strip of dolorous red… The under west, where wet winds mo… The cornfields all are brown, and…
Hear me, Brother, gently met; Just a little, turn, not yet, Thou shalt laugh, and soon forget: Now the midnight draweth near. I have little more to tell;
O doubts, dull passions, and base… That harassed and oppressed the da… Ye poor remorses and vain tears, That shook this house of clay: All heaven to the western bars
Once idly in his hall king Olave… Pondering, and with his dagger whi… And one draw near to him with aust… Saying ‘To-morrow is Monday,’ and… The king said nothing, but held fo…
Far above us where a jay Screams his matins to the day, Capped with gold and amethyst, Like a vapor from the forge Of a giant somewhere hid,
How deep the April night is in it… The hopeful, solemn, many-murmured… The earth lies hushed with expecta… Above the world’s dark border burn… Yellow and large; from forest floo…
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
When saw I yesterday walking apar… In a leafy place where the cattle… Something to keep for a charm in m… A little sweet girl in a garden ga… Laughing she lay in the gold sun’s…
The thoughts of all the maples who… When the sad landscape turns to co… Yet some for very ruth and sheer d… Hearing the northwind pipe the win… Have fired the hills with beaconin…
’Tis well with words, oh masters,… To turn men’s eyes yearning to the… Yet first take heed to what your o… By deeds not words the souls of me… Good lives alone are fruitful; the…
The point is turned; the twilight… The wheeling stream, the soft rece… And on our ears from deep among th… Breaks now the rapid’s sudden quic… Ah yet the same, or have they chan…
Mother of balms and soothings mani… Quiet-breathed night whose broodin… To whom the voices of all rest are… And those few stars whose scattere… Far off beyond the westward hills…
The King’s son walks in the garde… Oh, the maiden’s heart is merry! He little knows for his toil and c… That the bride is gone and the bow… Put on garments of white, my maide…
No wind there is that either pipes… The fields are cold and still; the… Is covered with a blue-gray sheet Of motionless cloud; and at my fee… The river, curling softly by,