#CanadianWriters
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
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…
Heavy with haze that merges and me… Into the measureless depth on eith… The full day rests upon the lumino… In one long noon of golden reverie… Now hath the harvest come and gone…
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…
For three whole days across the sk… In sullen packs that loomed and br… With flying fringes dim as smoke, The columns of the rain went by; At every hour the wind awoke;
Hear me, Brother, gently met; Just a little, turn, not yet, Thou shalt laugh, and soon forget: Now the midnight draweth near. I have little more to tell;
I saw the city’s towers on a lumin… Beyond them a hill of the softest… With naught but frost and the comi… And a long thin cloud above the co… I sat in the midst of a plain on m…
Once idly in his hall king Olave… Pondering, and with his dagger whi… And one draw near to him with aust… Saying ‘To-morrow is Monday,’ and… The king said nothing, but held fo…
Now overhead, Where the rivulet loiters and stop… The bittersweet hangs from the top… Of the alders and cherries Its bunches of beautiful berries,
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…
From this windy bridge at rest, In some former curious hour, We have watched the city’s hue, All along the orange west, Cupola and pointed tower,
Grief was my master yesternight; To-morrow I may grieve again; But now along the windy plain The clouds have taken flight. The sowers in the furrows go;
The point is turned; the twilight… The wheeling stream, the soft rece… And on our ears from deep among th… Breaks now the rapid’s sudden quic… Ah yet the same, or have they chan…
Long, long ago, it seems, this sum… That pale-browed April passed wit… Through the frore woods, and from… Woke the arbutus with her silver h… And now May, too, is fled,
The trees rustle; the wind blows Merrily out of the town; The shadows creep, the sun goes Steadily over and down. In a brown gloom the moats gleam;