#CanadianWriters
Along the narrow sandy height I watch them swiftly come and go, Or round the leafless wood, Like flurries of wind-driven snow, Revolving in perpetual flight,
The leafless forests slowly yield To the thick-driving snow. A litt… And night shall darken down. In s… The woodmen’s carts go by me homew… Past the thin fading stubbles, hal…
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…
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…
Oh night and sleep, Ye are so soft and deep, I am so weary, come ye soon to me. Oh hours that creep, With so much time to weep,
The old grey year is near his term… And now with backward eye and soft… Awakens to a golden dream of youth… A second childhood lovely and most… And the smooth hour about his mist…
All day upon the garden bright The suns shines strong, But in my heart there is no light, Or any song. Voices of merry life go by,
To-night the very horses springing… Toss gold from whitened nostrils.… The streets that narrow to the wes… Like rows of golden palaces; and h… From all the crowded chimneys towe…
Oh ye, who found in men’s brief wa… Of strength or help, so cast them… Your whole souls up to one ye deem… Nor failed nor doubted but held fa… Seeing before you that divine face…
Songs that could span the earth, When leaping thought had stirred t… In many an hour since birth, We heard or dreamed we heard them. Sometimes to all their sway
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,
Now the creeping nets of sleep Stretch about and gather nigh, And the midnight dim and deep Like a spirit passes by, Trailing from her crystal dress
A single dreary elm, that stands b… The sombre forest and the wan-lit… Halves with its slim gray stem and… The shadowed point. Beyond it wit… Bold brows of pine-topped granite…
Didst thou not tease and fret me t… Sweet spirit of this summer-circle… With that quiet voice of thine tha… Its meaning, though I mused and s… But now I am content to let it go…
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