ReviewsWe haven't found any reviews in the usual places.Write review References from web pagesThe Drift of Pinions. Studies in Canadian Literature A "Little World" in Decadence: Marjorie Pickthall's Poems on ... Popular passagesAnd Moses said, Thus saith the LORD, About midnight will I go out into the midst of Egypt : And all the firstborn in the land of Egypt shall die, from the firstborn of Pharaoh that sitteth upon his throne, even unto the firstborn of the maidservant that is behind the mill ; and all the firstborn of beasts. And there shall be a great cry throughout all the land of Egypt, such as there was none like it, nor shall be like it any more. Page 30 St. Ignace and St. Louis, little beads On the rosary of God. Pines shall Thy pillars be, Fairer than those Sidonian cedars brought By Hiram out of Tyre, and each birch-tree Shines like a holy thought. But come no worshippers ; shall I confess, St. Francis-like, the birds of the wilderness ? O, with Thy love my lonely head uphold, A wandering shepherd I, who hath no sheep; A wandering soul, who hath no scrip, nor gold, Nor anywhere to sleep. My hour of rest is done; On the smooth ripple lifts the... Page 48 My boatmen sit apart, Wolf-eyed, wolf-sinewed, stiller than the trees. Help me, O Lord, for very slow of heart And hard of faith are these. Cruel are they, yet Thy children. Foul are they, Yet wert Thou born to save them utterly. Then make me as I pray Just to their hates, kind to their sorrows, wise After their speech, and strong before their free Indomitable eyes. Page 46 Keep all things hushed, so hushed we seem to hear The sounds of low-swung clouds that sweep the trees; Let now no harsher music reach the ear, No earthlier sounds than these, When whispering shadows move within the grass, And airy tremors pass Through all the earth with life awakening thrilled, And so forever stilled, Too sweet in promise e'er to be fulfilled. O, keep the world forever at the dawn, Yet, keeping so, let nothing lifeless seem, But hushed, as if the miracle of morn Were trembling in... Page 15 The blood-red butterflies were gold against the sun, But in between the silence and the sweet birds calling The nuts fell one by one. Why should they fall and the year but half over? Why should sorrow seek me and I so young and kind ? The leaf is on the bough and the dew is on the clover, But the green nuts are falling in the wind. Page 66 O, keep the eastern gold no wider than An angel's finger-span, And hush the increasing thunder of the sea To murmuring melody In those fair coves where tempests ne'er should be. Hold back the line of shoreward-sweeping surge And veil each deep sea-pool in pearlier mist, Ere yet the silver ripples on the verge Have turned to amethyst. Fling back the chariot of encroaching day And call the winds away Ere yet they sigh, and let the hastening sun Along his path in heaven no higher run, But show through... Page 13 Love has touched the fields of wheat, And Love has crowned the corn ; And we must follow Love's white feet Through all the ways of morn: Through all the silver roads of air We pass and have no care. The silver roads of Love are wide, O winds that turn, O stars that guide. Sweet are the ways that Love hath trod Through the clear skies that reach to God; But in the cliff-grass Love builds deep A place where wandering wings may sleep. Page 23 On a floating flower and a weft of weed And a feather of froth. Here in the night all wonders are, Lapped in the lift of the ripple's swing, — A silver shell and a shaken star, And a white moth's wing. Here the young moon when the mists unclose Swims like the bud of a golden rose. I would live like an elf where the wild grapes cling, I would chase the thrush From the red rose-berries. All the day long I would laugh and swing With the black choke-cherries. I would shake the bees from the milkweed... Page 24 I'd love to roam! With an orchard on the hillside and an old, old man to mind it, O, there I'd lift my lodge at last and make my home. O, there I'd see the tide come in along the whispering reaches, O, there I'd lie and watch the sails go shining to the west. Page 9 And he sighed, and went. Will he come from the byre With his head all misty with dreams, and his eyes on fire, Shaking us all with the weight of the words of his passion? I will give him raisins instead of dates, And wreathe young leaves on the little red plates. I will put on my new head-tyre, And braid my hair in a comelier fashion. Will he note? Will he mind? . Will he touch my cheek as he used to, and laugh and be kind? Page 39 More book information |