The canadian magazine of politics, science, art and literature, November 1910-April 1911 . Lizette Woodworth I consider Life and its few years:A wisp of fog betwixt us and the sun,A call to battle and the battle done,.Ere the last echo dies within our ears;A rose choked in the grass; an hour of fears;The gusts that past a listening shore do beat;The burst of music down an unlistening street,I wonder at the idleness of tears,Ye old, old dead, and ye of yesternight,Chieftains and bards and keepers of the every cup of sorrow that you me from tears, and make
The canadian magazine of politics, science, art and literature, November 1910-April 1911 . Lizette Woodworth I consider Life and its few years:A wisp of fog betwixt us and the sun,A call to battle and the battle done,.Ere the last echo dies within our ears;A rose choked in the grass; an hour of fears;The gusts that past a listening shore do beat;The burst of music down an unlistening street,I wonder at the idleness of tears,Ye old, old dead, and ye of yesternight,Chieftains and bards and keepers of the every cup of sorrow that you me from tears, and make me see arightHow each hath back what once he stayed to weep—Homer his sight, David his little lad. ACEITIC in New York has saidthat no better sonnet than theabove fourteen-line jewel has beenwritten by an American. The writerhas been singing for a score of years,quaint, tuneful songs which shouldbe read by a quiet blaze in the twi-light—songs which do not belong tospring or summer, but to the longautumn evenings, when the leaves aredrifting down and the chill of com-ing winter cree
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1890, booksubjectcanadia, bookyear1893
