Poetry

May-Flower By  Emily Dickinson Pink, small, and punctual, Aromatic, low, Covert in April, Candid in May, Dear to the moss, Known by the knoll, Next t…

Death By  Emily Dickinson Death is like the insect     Menacing the tree, Competent to kill it,     But decoyed may be. Bait it with the balsam,     …

To My Wife By  Duncan Campbell Scott In every heart the heart of spring     Bursts into leaf and bud; The heart of love in every heart     Leaps with…

Early Apollo By Rainer Maria Rilke As when at times there breaks through branches bare A morning vibrant with the breath of spring, About th…

The Deep-Sea Cables By  Rudyard Kipling The wrecks dissolve above us; their dust drops down from afar —  Down to the dark, to the utter dark, where t…

Another Song of a Fool By  William Butler Yeats This great purple butterfly, In the prison of my hands, Has a learning in his eye Not a poor fool und…

Dairy Sketches By  James McIntyre In vale of Thames oft' times are seen The cattle graze 'mong sweetest green, Or there contented with their …

Galt and Dunlop By  James McIntyre John Galt was the manager of the Canada Company's lands, and he was a Scottish Novelist. Dunlop was at one tim…

Mary Callaghan and Me By  Gilbert Parker It was as fine a churchful as you ever clapt an eye on;     Oh, the bells was ringin’ gaily, and the sun was…

Fertile Lands and Great Cheese By  James McIntyre In barren district you may meet Small fertile spot doth grow fine wheat, There you may find the cho…

Thamesford By  James McIntyre The middle branch of Thames doth flow O'er pebble bed and it doth glow And sparkle like silver in the sun, As it th…

Lines Read at a Dairyman's Supper By  James McIntyre It almost now seems all in vain For to expect high price for grain, Wheat is grown on Egypti…

Tilsonburg By  James McIntyre After him who did the mills own, This place was called in honor Tilson; Bright gleaming like to a beaming star, Is clea…

At Les Éboulements (1) To M. E. S. By  Duncan Campbell Scott The bay is set with ashy sails,     With purple shades that fade and flee, And curling b…

Willow-Pipes By  Duncan Campbell Scott So in the shadow by the nimble flood He made her whistles of the willow wood, Flutes of one note with mellow s…