#CanadianWriters
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…
Methought I journeyed along ways… Throughout a happy land where stri… And life went by me flowing like a… Past sandy eyots where the shiftin… A land where beauty dwelt supreme,…
Oh deep-eyed brothers was there ev… Or is there now, or shall there so… Harbour or any rest for such as we… Lone thin-cheeked mariners, that a… Our whispering barks with such kee…
Once ye were happy, once by many a… Wherever Glooscap’s gentle feet m… Lulled by his presence like a drea… Floating at rest; but that was lon… He was too good for earthly men; h…
Where swallows and wheatfields are… O hamlet brown and still, O river that shineth far, By meadow, pier, and mill: O endless sunsteeped plain,
As a weed beneath the ocean, As a pool beneath a tree Answers with each breath or motion An imperious mastery; So my spirit swift with passion
What days await this woman, whose… Breathe spells, whose presence mak… Tall, free and slender as the fore… Whose form is moulded music, throu… Frank eyes I feel the very heart’…
Here when the cloudless April day… And the quaint crows flock thicker… Filling the forests with a pleasan… And the soiled snow creeps secretl… Comes the small busy sparrow, prim…
Far in the grim Northwest beyond… That turn the rivers eastward to t… Set with a thousand islands, crown… Lies the deep water, wild Temagam… Wild for the hunter’s roving, and…
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…
There came no change from week to… On all the land, but all one way, Like ghosts that cannot touch nor… Day followed day. Within the palace court the rounds
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 dew is gleaming in the grass, The morning hours are seven, And I am fain to watch you pass, Ye soft white clouds of heaven. Ye stray and gather, part and fold…
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,
Before me grew the human soul, And after I am dead and gone, Through grades of effort and contr… The marvellous work shall still go… Each mortal in his little span