Poems by Emily Pauline Johnson
Joe
... s wine, His face the sun has tampered with, and wrought, ...
Marshlands
... s brim. The pools low lying, dank with moss and mould, ...
Brier: Good Friday
... ne thing now,That these harsh hands of mine add not unto The crown of thorns upon your bleeding brow ...
Flint and Feather
... 4.13[page 13] But they searched in vain for the Cattle Thief : that lion had left his lair,4 ...
The Pilot of the Plains
... a maiden, misty as the autumn rains,Guiding with her lamp of moonlight Hunters lost upon the plains ...
Shadow River: Muskoka
... less world of seeming!O! pathless life of mine whose deep idealIs more my own than ever was the real ...
The Song my Paddle Sings
... fir tree rocking its lullaby,Swings, swings,Its emerald wings,Swelling the song that my paddle sings ...
