Because, dear Christ, your tender, wounded arm
Bends back the brier that edges life's long way,
12 lines, 1 comment
``False,\
52 lines, 3 comments
West wind, blow from your prairie nest,
Blow from the mountains, blow from the west
52 lines, 1 comment
Lent gathers up her cloak of sombre shading
In her reluctant hands.
32 lines
Like a grey shadow lurking in the light,
He ventures forth along the edge of night;
22 lines
A trail upwinds from Golden; It leads to a land God only knows,
31 lines
Halifax sits on her hills by the sea In the might of her pride,—
13 lines
We first saw light in Canada, the land beloved of God;
We are the pulse of Canada, its marrow and its blood:
20 lines
What dream you in the night-time
When you whisper to the moon?
18 lines
Pillowed and hushed on the silent plain, Wrapped in her mantle of golden grain,
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Lady Lorgnette, of the lifted lash,
The curling lip and the dainty nose,
30 lines
The long red flats stretch open to the sky,
Breathing their moisture on the August air.
19 lines
Speak of you, sir? You bet he did. Ben Fields was far too sound To go back on a fellow just because he weren't around.
65 lines
Once more adrift.
O'er dappling sea and broad lagoon,
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Little brown baby-bird, lapped in your nest,
Wrapped in your nest,
20 lines, 2 comments
Hard by the Indian lodges, where the bush
Breaks in a clearing, through ill-fashioned fields,
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I swing to the sunset land--
The world of prairie, the world of plain,
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I swing to the land of morn;
The grey old east with its grey old seas,
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Time and its ally, Dark Disarmament, Have compassed me about,
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At Crow's Nest Pass the mountains rend Themselves apart, the rivers wend
17 lines
There was a man--a Jew of kingly blood,
But of the people--poor and lowly born,
40 lines, 1 comment
Methinks I see your mirror frame,
Ornate with photographs of them.
24 lines
To none the city bends a servile knee;
Purse-proud and scornful, on her heights she stands,
18 lines
And only where the forest fires have sped, Scorching relentlessly the cool north lands,
10 lines, 1 comment
There's wine in the cup, Vancouver, And there's warmth in my heart for you,
32 lines
Little Lady Icicle is dreaming in the north-land
And gleaming in the north-land, her pillow all a-glow;
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I am the one who loved her as my life,
Had watched her grow to sweet young womanhood;
90 lines
There is no song his colours cannot sing,
For all his art breathes melody, and tunes
20 lines
Sounds of the seas grow fainter, Sounds of the sands have sped;
10 lines, 2 comments
Born on the breast of the prairie, she smiles to her sire--the sun,
Robed in the wealth of her wheat-lands, gift of her mothering soil,
7 lines
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