Lucy Maud Montgomery

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...

There is never a wind to sing o'er the sea On its dimpled bosom that holdeth in fee Wealth of silver and magicry;
And the harbor is like to an ebon cup With mother-o'-pearl to the lips lined up,
And brimmed with the wine of entranced del...

A hundred generations have gone into its making, With all their love and tenderness, with all their dreams and tears;
Their vanished joy and pleasure, their pain and their heart-breaking, Have colored this rare blossom of the long-unfruitful ...

I thank thee, friend, for the beautiful thought That in words well chosen thou gavest to me,
Deep in the life of my soul it has wrought With its own rare essence to ever imbue me,
To gleam like a star over devious ways,
To bloom lik...

Surely the flowers of a hundred springs Are simply the souls of beautiful things
The poppies aflame with gold and red Were the kisses of lovers in days that are fled
The purple pansies with dew-drops pearled Were the rainbow dreams of a ...

Athwart the harbor lingers yet The ashen gleam of breaking day, And where the guardian cliffs are set The noiseless shadows steal away; But all the winnowed eastern sky Is flushed with many a tender hue, And spears of light are smiting through The...

If Mary had
When she held her Babe's hands in her own­Little hands that were tender and white as a rose,
All dented with dimples from finger to wrist,
Such as mothers have kissed­That one day they must feel the fierce