#CanadianWriters
In his dim chapel day by day The organist was wont to play, And please himself with fluted rev… And all the spirit’s joy and strif… The longing of a tender life,
In days, when the fruit of men’s l… And hearts were weary and nigh to… A sweet grave man with a beautiful… Came to us once in the fields and… He told us of Roma, the marvellou…
Sweet summer is gone; they have la… The last sad hours that were touch… In the hush where the ghosts of th… The sleep that is sweet of her slu… Let not a sight or a sound erase
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…
One after one the high emotions fa… Time’s wheeling measure empties an… Year after year; we seek no more t… That lured our youth divine and un… But swarming on some common highwa…
Out of the Northland sombre weird… A shadow falleth southward day by… Sad summers arms grow cold; his fi… His feet draw back to give the ste… It is the voice and shadow of the…
Out of the gray northwest, where m… Ye tugged and howled in your tempe… And evermore the huge frost giants… Your wizard guards in vigilance un… Out of the gray northwest, for now…
Why weep ye in your innocent toil… Sweet little hands, why halt and t… Full many a wrong note falls, but… Each note to me is like a golden g… Each broken cadence like a mournin…
Slow figures in some live remorsel… The approaching days escapeless an… With mask and shroud impenetrably… Time, whose inexorable destinies Bear down upon us like impending s…
Belovèd, 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…
White are the far-off plains, and… The fading forests grow; The wind dies out along the height… And denser still the snow, A gathering weight on roof and tre…
Mother, to whose valiant will Battling long ago, What the heaping years fulfil, Light and song, I owe; Send my little book afield,
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…
Once on the year’s last eve in my… Sitting in dreams, not sad, nor qu… Balancing all 'twixt wonder and de… Methought my body and all this wor… And vanished from me, as a dream,…
The wind-swayed daisies, that on e… Throng the wide fields in whisperi… Serene and gently smiling like the… Of tender children long beatified, The delicate thought-wrapped butte…