THE sunset in the rosy west Burned soft and high; A shore-lark fell like a stone to his nest A wind came over the garden beds The pansies nodded their purple heads, One pansy said: It is only sleep, But a rose lay strewn in a snowy heap, Heigho, we've only one life to live, to give? Good-bye, old world, good-bye. AT LES ÉBOULEMENTS THE bay is set with ashy sails, The tide is straining from the sea. The grassy points are slowly drowned, INVINCIBLE ENVOY WHY, let them rail! God's full anointed ones Have heard the world exclaim, "We know you not!" WHEN you and I have played the little hour, Have seen the tall subaltern Life to Death They who by their soul's travailing have| Yield up his sword; and, smiling, draw brought Us nearer to the wonder of the suns. The wire that flashes lightning to the ground So, men may strike quick stabs at Cæsar's worth, They only make his life an endless force, 'Scaped from its penthouse, flashing through the earth, And whelming those who railed about his corse. Men's moods disturb not those born truly great: They know their end; they can afford to wait. The the breath, first long breath of freedom; when the flower Of Recompense hath fluttered to our feet, As to an actor's ; and the curtain down, Clasped hands, pressed lips, and so clasped hands again; No words. But as the proud wind fills the sail, My love to yours shall reach, then one deep moan Of joy; and then our infinite Alone. E. Pauline Johnson THE SONG MY PADDLE SINGS WEST wind, blow from your prairie nest, Blow from the mountains, blow from the west. The sail is idle, the sailor too; O wind of the west, we wait for you! I have wooed you so, I stow the sail and unship the mast: I wooed you long, but my wooing's past; By your mountains steep, Or down where the prairie grasses sweep, Now fold in slumber your laggard wings, For soft is the song my paddle sings. |