#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…
The world is bright with beauty, a… Are filled with music; could we on… True ends from false, and lofty th… Could we but tear away the walls t… Our very elbows in life’s frosty w…
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…
I lie upon my bed and hear and see… The moon is rising through the gli… And momently a great and sombre br… With a vast voice returning fitful… Comes like a deep-toned grief, and…
With what doubting eyes, oh sparro… Thou regardest me, Underneath yon spray of yarrow, Dipping cautiously. Fear me not, oh little sparrow,
I love the warm bare earth and all That works and dreams thereon: I love the seasons yet to fall: I love the ages gone, The valleys with the sheeted grain…
Now hath the summer reached her go… And, lost amid her corn-fields, br… Scarcely perceives from her divine… How near, how swift, the inevitabl… Still, still, she smiles, though f…
The darkness brings no quiet here,… No waking: ever on my blinded brai… The flare of lights, the rush, and… The engines’ scream, the hiss and… I see the hurrying crowds, the cla…
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…
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…
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…
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…
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…
All day between high-curded clouds… Shone down like summer on the stea… The long, bright icicles in dwindl… Dripped from the murmuring eaves t… They fell. As if the spring had n…
Mother, to whose valiant will Battling long ago, What the heaping years fulfil, Light and song, I owe; Send my little book afield,