Poetry Books

THE RECALL I am the land of their fathers.In me the virtue stays.I will bring back my children,After certain days. Under their feet in the grassesMy clinging magic runs.They shall return as strangers,They shall remain as sons. Over their heads in the branchesOf their new-bought, ancient trees,I weave an incantationAnd draw them to my knees. Scent of smoke in the evening.Smell of rain in the night,The... more...

INTRODUCTION. o have attempted in former times a work of this description, would have seemed, we cannot deny, to savour either of presumption or of idiotcy, or more probably of both. And rightly. But we live in times of progress. The mystery of yesterday is the common-place of to-day; the Bible, which was Newton's oracle, is Professor Huxley's jest-book; and students at the University now... more...

CANTO XXIX SO were mine eyes inebriate with viewOf the vast multitude, whom various woundsDisfigur'd, that they long'd to stay and weep. But Virgil rous'd me: "What yet gazest on?Wherefore doth fasten yet thy sight belowAmong the maim'd and miserable shades?Thou hast not shewn in any chasm besideThis weakness.  Know, if thou wouldst number themThat two and twenty miles the... more...

THE CONFUSED DAWN. YOUNG MAN  What are the Vision and the CryThat haunt the new Canadian soul?  Dim grandeur spreads we know not whyO'er mountain, forest, tree and knoll,  And murmurs indistinctly fly.—  Some magic moment sure is nigh.O Seer, the curtain roll! SEERThe Vision, mortal, it is this—  Dead mountain, forest, knoll and treeAwaken all endued with bliss,  A native land—O... more...

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AT THE SIGN OF THE LYRE. "At the Sign of the Lyre," Good Folk, we present you With the pick of our quire, And we hope to content you! Here be Ballad and Song, The fruits of our leisure, Some short and some long— May they all give you pleasure! But if, when you read, They should fail to restore you, Farewell, and God-speed— The world is before you! THE LADIES OF ST. JAMES'S. A PROPER... more...

SÉANCE AT SUNRISEPlace the new handsIn the old handsOf the old generation,And let us tilt tablesIn the high roomOf our imagination.Let the thick veil glow thin,At sunrise—at sunrise—Let the strange eyes peer in,The red, the black, and the white facesOf the still living deadOf the three races.Let a quaint voice begin: Voice of an Indian "Gone from the land,We leave the music of our names,As... more...

THE GREEN KNIGHTKing Arthur and his court were blithe and gayIn high-towered Camelot, on Christmas day,For all the Table Round were back again,At peace with God and with their fellow-men.Their shields hung idly on the pictured wall;Their blood-stained banners decked the festal hallLight footsteps, rustling on the rush-strewn floors,And laughter, rippling down long corridors,Attested minds at ease and... more...

AFTER HORACE   What asks the Bard? He prays for nought    But what the truly virtuous crave:  That is, the things he plainly ought        To have.   'Tis not for wealth, with all the shocks    That vex distracted millionaires,  Plagued by their fluctuating stocks        And shares:   While plutocrats their millions new    Expend upon each costly whim,  A... more...

A FATHER OF WOMEN Ad Sororem E. B. “Thy father was transfused into thy blood.” Dryden: Ode to Mrs. Anne Killigrew.       Our father works in us,The daughters of his manhood.  Not undoneIs he, not wasted, though transmuted thus,      And though he left no son.       Therefore on him I cryTo arm me: “For my delicate mind a casque,A breastplate for my heart, courage to... more...