#Canadians
SHINING, shining children Of the summer rain, Racing down the valley, Sweeping o’er the plain! Rushing through the forest,
The lover of child Marjory Had one white hour of life brim fu… Now the old nurse, the rocking sea… Hath him to lull. The daughter of child Marjory
O all the little rivers that run t… They call me and call me to follow… Missinaibi, Abitibi, Little Curr… Dancing and sparkling I see them… I hear the brawling rapid, the thu…
Wind of the dead men’s feet, Blow down the empty street Of this old city by the sea With news for me! Blow me beyond the grime
ON the long slow heave of a lazy… To the flap of an idle sail, The Nancy’s Pride went out on the… And the skipper stood by the rail. All down, all down by the sleepy t…
What need have you of praising? C… Some lonely poet no one praises ye… Him rather would I choose, that h… A fellow-craftsman knew him, marke… But you—the whole world praises yo…
The rutted roads are all like iron… Are keen and brilliant; only the o… In the bare woods, or the hardy bi… ; Drivers have put their sheepskin j…
Harvard, 1914 SIR, friends, and scholars, we ar… A high occasion. Our New England… All her unrivalled beauty as of ol… And June, with scent of bayberry…
I HEAR a rainbird singing Far off. How fine and clear His plaintive voice comes ringing With rapture to the ear! Over the misty wood-lots,
OH, well the world is dreaming Under the April moon, Her soul in love with beauty, Her senses all a-swoon! Pure hangs the silver crescent
HERE by the gray north sea, In the wintry heart of the wild, Comes the old dream of thee, Guendolen, mistress and child. The heart of the forest grieves
Not in the ancient abbey, Nor in the city ground, Not in the lonely mountains, Nor in the blue profound, Lay him to rest when his time is c…
The swarthy bee is a buccaneer, A burly velveted rover, Who loves the booming wind in his… As he sails the seas of clover. A waif of the goblin pirate crew,
There is something in the autumn t… Touch of manner, hint of mood; And my heart is like a rhyme, With the yellow and the purple and… The scarlet of the maples can shak…
THE hilltop trees are bowing Under the coming of storm. The low gray clouds are trailing Like squadrons that sweep and form… With their ammunition of rain.