#Canadians
In a still room at hush of dawn, My Love and I lay side by side And heard the roaming forest wind Stir in the paling autumn-tide. I watched her earth-brown eyes gro…
ABOVE the weary waiting world, Asleep in chill despair, There breaks a sound of joyous bel… Upon the frosted air. And o’er the humblest rooftree, lo…
I like the old house tolerably wel… Where I must dwell Like a familiar gnome; And yet I never shall feel quite… I love to roam.
THESE things I remember Of New England June, Like a vivid day-dream In the azure noon, While one haunting figure
HERE we came when love was young… Now that love is old, Shall we leave the floor unswept And the hearth acold? Here the hill-wind in the dusk,
NOW the joys of the road are chie… A crimson touch on the hard-wood t… A vagrant’s morning wide and blue, In early fall, when the wind walks… A shadowy highway cool and brown,
I love the stony pasture That no one else will have. The old gray rocks so friendly see… So durable and brave. In tranquil contemplation
ALONG the wintry skyline, Crowning the rocky crest, Stands the bare screen of hardwood… Against the saffron west,— Its gray and purple network
THE fireflies across the dusk Are flashing signals through the g… Courageous messengers of light That dare immensities of doom. About the seeding meadow-grass,
AH, Pierrot, Where is thy Columbine? What vandal could untwine That gay rose-rope of thine, And spill thy joy like wine,
First all the host of Raphael In liveries of gold, Lifted the chorus on whose rhythm The spinning spheres are rolled,– The Seraphs of the morning calm
NOW is the time of year When all the flutes begin,— The redwing bold and clear, The rainbird far and thin. In all the waking lands
My tent stands in a garden Of aster and golden-rod, Tilled by the rain and the sunshin… And sown by the hand of God, - An old New England pasture
This was a leader of the sons of l… Of winsome cheer and strenuous com… Upon the veteran hordes of Bigot-… All day his vanguard spirit, flami… Bore up the brunt of unavailing fi…
I HEAR you, Brother, I hear you… Down in the alder swamp, Springing your woodland whistle To herald the April pomp! First of the moving vanguard,