#CanadianWriters #FemaleWriters
Lady Lorgnette, of the lifted las… The curling lip and the dainty nos… The shell-like ear where the jewel… The arching brow and the languid p… The rare old lace and the subtle s…
The sun’s red pulses beat, Full prodigal of heat, Full lavish of its lustre unrepres… But we have drifted far From where his kisses are,
A sweet high treble threads its si… Voice of the restless aspen, fine… It trills its pure soprano, light… Like the vibretto of a mandolin.
You are belted with gold, little b… Yellow gold, like the sun That spills in the west, as a chal… When feasting is done. You are gossamer-winged, little br…
Sleep, with her tender balm, her t… Has passed me by; Afar I see her vesture, velvet-li… Float silently; O! Sleep, my tired eyes had need…
There is no song his colours canno… For all his art breathes melody, a… The fine, keen beauty that his bru… To murmuring marbles and to golden… The music of those marbles you can…
So near at hand (our eyes o’erlook… In search of distant things) A dear dream lay—perchance to grow… Had we but felt its wings Astir. The air our very breathing…
Stripped to the waist, his copper-… Red from the smouldering heat of h… Lean as a wolf in winter, fierce o… As all wild things that hunt for f… War paint adorning breast and thig…
Cards, and swords, and a lady’s lo… That is a tale worth reading, An insult veiled, a downcast glove… And rapiers leap unheeding. And ’tis O! for the brawl,
Little Lady Icicle is dreaming in… And gleaming in the north-land, he… For the frost has come and found h… With an ermine robe around her Where little Lady Icicle lies dre…
The autumn afternoon is dying o’er The quiet western valley where I… Beneath the maples on the river sh… Where tinted leaves, blue waters a… Environ all; and far above some bi…
Hard by the Indian lodges, where… Breaks in a clearing, through ill-… She comes to labour, when the firs… Of autumn follows large and recent… Age in her fingers, hunger in her…
A trail upwinds from Golden; It leads to a land God only knows… To the land of eternal frozen snow… That trail unknown and olden. And they tell a tale that is stran…
Lent gathers up her cloak of sombr… In her reluctant hands. Her beauty heightens, fairest in i… As pensively she stands Awaiting Easter’s benediction fal…
I am sailing to the leeward, Where the current runs to seaward Soft and slow, Where the sleeping river grasses Brush my paddle as it passes