#CanadianWriters
If any man, with sleepless care op… On many a night had risen, and add… His hand to make him out of joy an… An image of sweet sleep in carven… Light touch by touch, in weary mom…
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…
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
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…
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…
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…
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,
Yearning upon the faint rose-curve… About her child-sweet mouth and in… And in her eyes watching with eyes… The light and shadow of laughter,… Mute, knowing out two souls might…
In the silent depth of space, Immeasurably old, immeasurably far… Glittering with a silver flame Through eternity, Rolls a great and burning star,
Oh city, whom grey stormy hands ha… With restless drift, scarce broken… Out of the dark thy windows dim an… Gleam red across the storm. Sound… Save evermore the fierce wind’s sw…
Where swallows and wheatfields are… O hamlet brown and still, O river that shineth far, By meadow, pier, and mill: O endless sunsteeped plain,
Long hours ago, while yet the morn… Nor sharp athirst had drunk the be… A reaper came, and swung his cradl… Around this stump, and, shearing s… Far round among the clover, ripe f…
Mother, to whose valiant will Battling long ago, What the heaping years fulfil, Light and song, I owe; Send my little book afield,
By silent forest and field and mos… We come from the wooden hill, and… We labour, and sing sweet songs, b… For our mother, the sea, is callin… We have heard her calling us many…
Grief was my master yesternight; To-morrow I may grieve again; But now along the windy plain The clouds have taken flight. The sowers in the furrows go;