I see the harsh, wind-ridden, eastward hill, By the red ca
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Here clove the keels of centuries ago Where now unvisited
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Tons upon tons the brown-green fragrant hay O'erbrims the mows&
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Back to the green deeps of the outer bay The red and&
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One night came Winter noiselessly, and leaned Against my window
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My glad feet shod with the glittering steel I was the god of
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O earth, sufficing all our needs, O you With room for 
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A faint wind, blowing from World's End, Made strange the c
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(A Modernity) Twelve good friends
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The great and the little weavers, They neither rest nor sleep.
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When the grey lake-water rushes Past the dripping alder-bushes,
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O Child of Nations, giant-limbed, Who stand'st among the nations 
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He who would start and rise Before the crowing cocks, --
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(from "The Sprightly Pilgrim") I sat and read Anacreon.
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I was spawned from the glacier, A thousand miles due north
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A high bare field, brown from the plough, and borne Aslant
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It is so long ago; and men well-nigh
Forget what gladness was,&nb
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I
O tranquil meadows, grassy Tantramar,
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Stumps, and harsh rocks, and prostrate trunks all charred,
And gnarled roots naked to the sun and rain,--
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O rivers rolling to the sea
From lands that bear the maple-tree,
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The morning sky is white with mist, the earth
White with the inspiration of the dew.
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Over the tops of the houses
Twilight and sunset meet.
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Before our trenches at Cambrai
We saw their columns cringe away.
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Up, heart of mine,
Thou wayfarer of Earth!
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With April here,
And first thin green on the awakening bough,
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All night the lone cicada
Kept shrilling through the rain
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When the lights come out in the cottages
Along the shores at eve,
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Sang the sun rise on an amber morn -
"Earth, be glad! An April day is born.
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How sweetly on the autumn scene,
When haws are red amid the green,
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Comes the lure of green things growing,
Comes the call of waters flowing -
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