The Poet
There was strength in him and the weak won freely from it, There was an infinite pity, and hard hearts grew soft thereby,
There was truth so unshrinking and starry-shining, Men read clear by its light and learned to scorn a lie.
His were songs so full of a wholesome laughter Those whose courage was ashen found it once more aflame,
His was a child-like faith and wandering feet were guided, His was a hope so joyous despair was put to shame.
His was the delicate insight and his the poignant vision Whereby the world might learn what wine-lipped roses know,
What a drift of rain might lisp on a gray sea-dawning, Or a pale spring of the woodland babble low.
He builded a castle of dream and a palace of rainbow fancy, And the starved souls of his fellows lived in them and grew glad;And yetthere were those who mocked the gifts of his generous giving, And somebut he smiled and forgave themwho deemed him wholly mad!
Lucy Maud Montgomery
Other author posts
In an Old Farmhouse
Outside the afterlight's lucent rose Is smiting the hills and brimming the valleys, And shadows are stealing across the snows; From the mystic gloom of the pineland alleys Glamour of mingled night and day Over the wide, white world has s...
Spring Song
Hark, I hear a robin calling List, the wind is from the south And the orchard-bloom is
The Forest Path
Oh, the charm of idle dreaming Where the dappled shadows dance, All the leafy aisles are teeming With the lure of old romance Down into the forest dipping, Deep and deeper as we go, One might fancy dryads slipping Where the white-st...
In Memory of Maggie
A pussy-cat who was the household pet for seventeen years Naught but a little cat, you say; Yet we remember her, A creature loving, loyal, kind,
