#CanadianWriters
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…
My forest brave, my Red-skin love… We may not meet to-morrow; who can… What mighty ills befall our little… Or what you’ll suffer from the whi… Here is your knife! I thought ’tw…
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,
All yesterday the thought of you w… And when sleep wandered o’er the w… To fill my dreams with splendour s… And in the morn I wakened with yo… Awakened, my beloved, to the morni…
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
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…
At Crow’s Nest Pass the mountain… Themselves apart, the rivers wend A lawless course about their feet, And breaking into torrents beat In useless fury where they blend
There’s a spirit on the river, the… They are chanting, they are singin… As they steal amid the silence, And the shadows of the shore. You can hear them when the Northe…
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…
The wild grape mantling the trail… Festoons in graceful veils its dra… Its tendrils cling, as clings the… By some evasive haunting tune, twi…
You didn’t know Billy, did you? W… The greatest fellow you ever seen… An’ sing! say, you never heard sin… I used to say to him, “Billy, tha… A mighty sight more bank-notes to…
At husking time the tassel fades To brown above the yellow blades, Whose rustling sheath enswathes th… That bursts its chrysalis in scorn Longer to lie in prison shades.
Beyond a ridge of pine with russet… The west lifts to the sun her long… Her blushes stain with gold and ga… The shore, the river and the wide… Like floods of wine the waters fil…
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.
Across the street, an humble woman… To her ’tis little fortune ever gi… Denied the wines of life, it puzzl… To know how she can laugh so cheer… This morn I listened to her softl…