Marguerite, Or, The Isle of Demons and Other Poems |
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Marguerite; Or, The Isle of Demons and Other Poems: In Large Print George Martin Limited preview - 2023 |
Marguerite; Or, The Isle of Demons and Other Poems: In Large Print George Martin Limited preview - 2023 |
Common terms and phrases
angels Apple Woman beauty bird blest bliss bloom brave breath bright brow cease CHARLES HEAVYSEGE charm cheek cheer cloud Coldsnap curse dark dear death Demons desert of sin dream Eugene evermore evil eyes face fair fate fear fell felt fled flowers gazed gleam gleaming spires gloaming gloom glory golden Hallowe'en hand happy hath heard heart heaven hope hour hyacinth flowers Isle JOSEPH GUIBORD kissed knew land laugh light lips listen lonely look love's maid morn Mount Royal never night o'er ocean pity poor purple rain roar Roberval round shade shining shore sigh silent sing skies smile snow soft song sorrow soul sound spirit star stood storm summer sweet tears tell thee thine things THOMAS D'ARCY MCGEE thou thought to-night tread trees Twas Ville-Marie Vive le Canada voice waif wave whip-poor-will whispered wild wind wings woods
Popular passages
Page 216 - ... altogether locked up in himself, so that a literary acquaintance of his says Heavysege's appearance always reminded him exactly of "The Yellow Dwarf," "He walked our streets, and no one knew That something of celestial hue Had passed along; a toil-worn man Was seen, - no more; the fire that ran Electric through his veins, and wrought Sublimity of soul and thought, And kindled into song, no eye Beheld.
Page 159 - He sees a city there : — the blazing forge, The mason's hammer on the shaping stone, Great wheels along the stream revolving large, And swift machinery's whirr and clank and groan, And the fair bridge that spans the yawning gorge, Which drinks the spray of Chaudiere, leaping prone, And spires of silvery hue, and belfry's toll, All strike, like whetted knives, the red man's soul.
Page 157 - ONWARD the Saxon treads. Few years ago, A chief of the Algonquins passed at dawn, With knife and tomahawk and painted bow, Down the wild Ottawa, and climbed upon A rocky pinnacle, where in the glow Of boyhood he had loved to chase the fawn ; Proudly he stood there, listening to the roar Of rapids sounding, sounding evermore.
Page 159 - V. Again the Indian comes — some years have rolled — Down the wild Ottawa, and stands upon His boyhood haunt, and with an eye still bold Looks round, and sighs for glories that are gone ; For all is changed, except the fall that told, And tells its Maker still, and Bird-rock lone ; Sadly he leans against an evening sky, Transfigured in its ebb of rosy dye. He sees a city there : — the blazing forge, The mason's hammer on the shaping stone, Great wheels along the stream revolving large, And...
Page 46 - And we did not venture one word to speak Till we entered the path of the cool green wood. And felt in our whispering hearts it was good, For thee and me to be there. — The Woodland Walk. HATE. Better excessive love than hate, Save hate of hell. — Marguerite. MOTHERHOOD. 'Twas thus a new revealment came, A something out of nothingness, To which we gave the simple name Of Lua. O, the first caress A mother to her first-born gives! — Methinks the angels must confess, Through all the after ages'...
Page 32 - In one delicious circle wove The pulsings of our destiny. The great rude world was far away, And like a troubled vision lay Outside our thoughts ; its cold deceits, The babble of its noisy streets, And all the selfish rivalry That courts and castles propagate Were alien to our new estate...
Page 123 - ... touch the mourner's tears, A guide, a glory through our mortal night; — All other passions, be they dark or bright, All high desires are but thy subject spheres, And captive servitors, whose pathway veers, Obedient to thine all-pervading might. — Sonnet, DOUBT. Doubt if thou wilt, but reverently, And heed not what the owls may say, Who from their gloomy perch give out That Sin is foster-child of Doubt. Doubt is the silent needful night, The womb of intellectual might; But who can wisely choose...
Page 26 - Upon the pathless forest lay. Think not I journeyed void of fear ; Sir Roberval's hot malediction, Like hurtling thunder, sounded near ; Our steps the envious demons haunted, And peeped, or seemed to peep and leer, From rocky clefts and caverns drear. But still, defiantly, undaunted, Eugene averred it had been held By wise philosophers of eld, That all such sights and sounds are mere Fantastic tricks of eye and ear, And only meet for tales of fiction.
Page 205 - ... odorous flowers that feast the bee, Those mimic fountains sunward leaping, And yon red rowans on the tree, That bring my childhood back to me, With hallowed scenes of Memory's keeping. All these, and more, with beauty clad, Invite the city's weary mortals — The pale-faced maid, the widow sad, And sinking merchant, growing mad, To muse within these peaceful portals. Here is the stone that sages sought, Here the famed lamp of blest Aladdin ; Objects that tell ambitious thought, ' All that thy...
Page 104 - My good man — God be kind — had long been sick, And one cold morning when the snowstorm blew, He said, " Dear Bess, it grieves me to the quick To see you venture out— give me my stick, I'll come to you at gloamin' And bide you home," ' — she paused, the rest I knew.