#CanadianWriters
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…
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…
A little while, a year agone, I knew her for a romping child, A dimple and a glance that shone With idle mischief when she smiled… To-day she passed me in the press,
Life is not all for effort: there… When fancy breaks from the exactin… And rebel though takes schoolboy’s… Rejoicing in its idle strength. ’… And only at such moments, that we…
Yearning upon the faint rose-curve… About her child-sweet mouth and in… And in her eyes watching with eyes… The light and shadow of laughter,… Mute, knowing out two souls might…
Far up in the wild and wintery hil… woods, Where the mounded drifts lie soft… The hut of the lonely woodcutter s… A blunted peak and a low black lin…
Long, long ago, it seems, this sum… That pale-browed April passed wit… Through the frore woods, and from… Woke the arbutus with her silver h… And now May, too, is fled,
Beside the pounding cataracts Of midnight streams unknown to us ’Tis builded in the leafless tract… And valleys huge of Tartarus. Lurid and lofty and vast it seems;
Why weep ye in your innocent toil… Sweet little hands, why halt and t… Full many a wrong note falls, but… Each note to me is like a golden g… Each broken cadence like a mournin…
As a weed beneath the ocean, As a pool beneath a tree Answers with each breath or motion An imperious mastery; So my spirit swift with passion
Out of the heart of the city begot… Of the labour of men and their man… Whose souls, that were sprung from… No longer regard or remember her w… Whose hearts in the furnace of car…
Subtly conscious, all awake, Let us clear our eyes, and break Through the cloudy chrysalis, See the wonder as it is. Down a narrow alley, blind,
The thoughts of all the maples who… When the sad landscape turns to co… Yet some for very ruth and sheer d… Hearing the northwind pipe the win… Have fired the hills with beaconin…
Along the waste, a great way off,… Like tall slim priests of storm, s… The low long strip of dolorous red… The under west, where wet winds mo… The cornfields all are brown, and…
Mother of balms and soothings mani… Quiet-breathed night whose broodin… To whom the voices of all rest are… And those few stars whose scattere… Far off beyond the westward hills…