#CanadianWriters
OVER the wintry threshold Who comes with joy to-day, So frail, yet so enduring, To triumph o’er dismay? Ah, quick her tears are springing,
A Threnody for Robert Louis Stev… COLD, the dull cold! What ails t… And takes the heart out of the day… What makes the morning look so mea… The Common so forlorn and gray?
I SAID to Life, ‘How comes it, With all this wealth in store, Of beauty, joy, and knowledge, Thy cry is still for more? ’Count all the years of striving
I heard the spring wind whisper Above the brushwood fire, ‘The world is made forever Of transport and desire. ’I am the breath of being,
I know a vale where I would go on… When June comes back and all the… Is glad with summer. Deep in shad… A mighty cleft between the bosomin… A cool dim gateway to the mountain…
FOR a name unknown, Whose fame unblown Sleeps in the hills For ever and aye; For her who hears
MY tent stands in a garden Of aster and goldenrod, Tilled by the rain and the sunshin… And sown by the hand of God,— An old New England pasture
ONCE in the Workshop, ages ago, The clay was wet and the fire was… And He who was bent on fashioning… Moulded a shape from a clod, And put the loyal heart therein;
WHO called us forth out of darkne… Who set our hands to the toiling,… Darkly they mused, predestined to… Sowing the seed of wisdom, guardin… Little they reckoned privation, hu…
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…
For The Brthday Of James Whitco… LOCKERBIE STREET is a littl… Just one block long; But the days go there with a magic… The whole year long.
OH, but life went gaily, gaily, In the house of Idiedaily! There were always throats to sing Down the river-banks with spring, When the stir of heart’s desire
Time out of mind I have stood Fronting the frost and the sun, That the dream of the world might… And the goodly will be done. Did the hand of the builder guess,
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…
WHEN I am only fit to go to bed, Or hobble out to sit within the su… Ring down the curtain, say the pla… And the last petals of the poppy s… I do not want to live when I am o…