#CanadianWriters
Now overhead, Where the rivulet loiters and stop… The bittersweet hangs from the top… Of the alders and cherries Its bunches of beautiful berries,
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 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…
Friend, though thy soul should bur… Thoughts were not meant for strife… He that sees clear is gentlest of… And that’s not truth that hath the… The whole world’s thought shall no…
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…
How still it is here in the woods.… Stand motionless, as if they did n… To stir, lest it should break the… Hangs quiet as spaces in a marble… Even this little brook, that runs…
’Tis well with words, oh masters,… To turn men’s eyes yearning to the… Yet first take heed to what your o… By deeds not words the souls of me… Good lives alone are fruitful; the…
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…
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
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…
Far up in the wild and wintery hil… woods, Where the mounded drifts lie soft… The hut of the lonely woodcutter s… A blunted peak and a low black lin…
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…
In Nino’s chamber not a sound int… Upon the midnight’s tingling silen… Where Nino sits before his book a… Thin and brow-burdened with some f… Some gloom that hangs about his mo…
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 doubts, dull passions, and base… That harassed and oppressed the da… Ye poor remorses and vain tears, That shook this house of clay: All heaven to the western bars
