#CanadianWriters
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…
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
O Power to whom this earthly clim… Is but an atom in the whole, O Poet-heart of Space and Time, O Maker and Immortal Soul, Within whose glowing rings are bou…
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,…
Here the dead sleep—the quiet dead… Disturbs them ever, and no storm d… Winter mid snow caresses the tired… And the wind roars about the woodl… Springtime and summer and red autu…
We in sorrow coldly witting, In the bleak world sitting, sittin… By the forest, near the mould, Heard the summer calling, calling, Through the dead leaves falling, f…
Canst thou not rest, O city, That liest so wide and fair; Shall never an hour bring pity, Nor end be found for care? Thy walls are high in heaven,
Underneath a tree at noontide Abu Midjan sits distressed, Fetters on his wrists and ancles, And his chin upon his breast; For the Emir’s guard had taken,
With loitering step and quiet eye, Beneath the low November sky, I wandered in the woods, and found A clearing, where the broken groun… Was scattered with black stumps an…
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
Beyond the dusky corn-fields, towa… Dotted with farms, beyond the shal… Through drifts of elm with quiet p… Curved white and slender as a lady… Faint and far off out of the autum…
I stand at noon upon the heated fl… At the bleached crossing of two st… With brain scarce conscious now th… Of noonday passengers is done. Tw… Stand at an open doorway piled wit…
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…
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…
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…