#CanadianWriters
Here when the cloudless April day… And the quaint crows flock thicker… Filling the forests with a pleasan… And the soiled snow creeps secretl… Comes the small busy sparrow, prim…
Far above us where a jay Screams his matins to the day, Capped with gold and amethyst, Like a vapor from the forge Of a giant somewhere hid,
There is singing of birds in the d… In the heart of the listening soli… Pewees, and thrushes, and sparrows… And all the notes of their throats… The thrush from the innermost ash…
I lie upon my bed and hear and see… The moon is rising through the gli… And momently a great and sombre br… With a vast voice returning fitful… Comes like a deep-toned grief, and…
The sun falls warm: the southern w… The air seethes upwards with a ste… Each dip of the road is now a crys… And every rut a little dancing riv… Through great soft clouds that sun…
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…
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…
Once, long ago, before the gods Had left this earth, by stream and… Where the first plough upturned th… Or the lost shepherd strayed, Often to the tired listener’s ear
The sun looks over a little hill And floods the valley with gold– A torrent of gold; And the hither field is green and… Beyond it a cloud outrolled,
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…
On such a day the shrunken stream Spends its last water and runs dry… Clouds like far turrets in a dream Stand baseless in the burning sky. On such a day at every rod
Not, not for thee, Belovèd child, the burning grasp… Shall bruise the tender soul. The… And clamor of midday thou shalt no… But wrapped for ever in thy quiet…
Again the warm bare earth, the noo… That hangs upon her healing scars, The midnight round, the great red… The mother with her brood of stars… The mist-rack and the wakening rai…
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;
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…
