Songs of the Great Dominion: Voices from the Forests and Waters, the Settlements and Cities of Canada (Google eBook)

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W. Scott, 1889 - Canada Poetry - 465 pages
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Page 283 - THE sun goes down, and over all These barren reaches by the tide Such unelusive glories fall, I almost dream they yet will bide • Until the coming of the tide. And yet I know that not for us, By any ecstasy of dream...
Page 254 - One voice, one people, one in heart And soul, and feeling, and desire ! Re-light the smouldering martial fire, Sound the mute trumpet, strike the lyre, The hero deed can not expire, The dead still play their part. Raise high the monumental stone ! A nation's fealty is theirs, And we are the rejoicing heirs, The honored sons of sires whose cares We take upon us unawares, As freely as our own. We boast not of the victory, But render homage, deep and just, To his — to their — immortal dust, Who...
Page xxviii - Parts,' published anonymously at Montreal, we have before us perhaps the only copy which has crossed the Atlantic. At all events we have heard of...
Page 369 - HEAT From plains that reel to southward, dim, The road runs by me white and bare ; Up the steep hill it seems to swim Beyond, and melt into the glare. Upward half-way, or it may be Nearer the summit, slowly steals A hay-cart, moving dustily With idly clacking wheels. By his cart's side the wagoner Is slouching slowly at his ease, Half-hidden in the windless blur Of white dust puffing to his knees. This wagon on the height above, From sky to sky on either hand, Is the sole thing that seems to move...
Page 181 - How the snow-blight came upon me I will tell you as we go, — The blight of the shadow hunter Who walks the midnight snow.
Page 283 - Was it a year, or lives ago, We took the grasses in our hands, And caught the summer flying low Over the waving meadow lands, And held it there between our hands...
Page 284 - Athrough the fields of Acadie Goes wandering, as if to know Why one beloved face should be So long from home and Acadie. Was it a year or lives ago We took the grasses in our hands, And caught the summer flying low Over the waving meadow lands. And held it there between our hands? The while the river at our feet — A drowsy inland meadow stream — At set of sun the after-heat Made running gold, and in the gleam We freed our birch upon the stream. There down along the elms at dusk We lifted dripping...
Page 30 - This North whose heart of fire Yet knows not its desire Clearly, but dreams, and murmurs in the dream. The hour of dreams is done. Lo, on the hills the gleam ! Awake, my country, the hour of dreams is done ! Doubt not, nor dread the greatness of thy fate. Tho...
Page 215 - He told them of the river, whose mighty current gave Its freshness for a hundred leagues to ocean's briny wave; He told them of the glorious scene presented to his sight, What time he reared the cross and crown on Hochelaga's height ; And of the fortress cliff, that keeps of Canada the key: — And they welcomed back Jacques Cartier from his perils over sea.
Page 19 - Quebec, thy storied citadel Attest in burning song and psalm How here thy heroes fell! O Thou that bor'st the battle's brunt At Queenston, and at Lundy's Lane, — On whose scant ranks but iron front The battle broke in vain! — Whose was the danger, whose the day, From whose triumphant throats the cheers, At Chrysler's Farm, at Chateauguay, Storming like clarion-bursts our ears?

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