The Piece Bag

A square of chintz ~ what memories it brings
Of golden dawns; of pleasant country things;
A moonlit scented garden after rain,
And glimpse of beechwoods through a latticed pane.


Serge and grey flannel, eloquent of boys,
Recall past days of jollity and noise;
Of chestnuts roasting in the fire's red glow,
And thrilling stories told when lights were low.

Organdie, muslin, dainty ends of lace
And silk, bridge for my eager mind time's space,
And waken sliver echoes, silent long,
Of girlish voices gay with mirth and song.

O remnants treasured here for future need,
You've been to loneliness a boon indeed;
For in my odd-piece bag, 'twixt smiles and tears,
I read the happy story of the years.

~ Ellen Elliott  [Yellowed clipping from THE GLOBE, TORONTO, FRIDAY OCTOBER 12 - year unknown.]

When the sun shines upon the crust of March
In the bare wood, how blue the shadows lie
Along the snow between the gray tree-boles!
And where the muffled stream runs, bluer still
Between its snowy banks edged with frail ice,
The silvery oaks and sugar maples stand
Like a faint tracing on a lacquer tray,
Or a worn pattern on old Sheffield plate.
The strong sun melts the snow in open places;
A calling crow flies over, trailing north
His silent shadow down the wooded slope;
And then to bring the winter scene to life,
Etched on the memory like a haunting smile
A bluebird flashes to an apple bough.

~  Bliss Carmen, "A Bluebird in March" ~ Sanctuary, Sunshine House Sonnets,
McClelland & Stewart, 1929.

Along the Grand

[Photos:  Cayuga-on-the-Grand, Feb., 2016 lbw]

SANCTUARY by Bliss Carman

Out of the turmoil whither shall I go?
How cure the fever of a mind distraught,
The crazed futility of haste assuage,
And dear serenity's lost poise restore?
Is there no respite for the racing pulse,
No haven from the day's demoniac din
And the relentless frenzy of the night?
Were may the haunting peace of God be found?
No cabined luxury contents the soul,
Homesick for solace of its native air.
For healing of the wind among the pines,
The stilling beauty of the clear new moon,
The strength of hills, the joy of singing streams,
Take any road at hand, to Out-of-doors.

~ ESCAPE by Bliss Carman (1861 - 1929) Canadian Poet Laureate

 

 

SANCTUARY SUNSHINE HOUSE SONNETS by Bliss Carman, Illustrations by Whitman Bailey.

McClelland & Stewart, 1929.

 

 

 

 

"Chiefswood" erected in 1853 Home of Pauline Johnson

 

THE IDLERS

 

The sun's red pulses beat,

Full prodigal of heat,

Full lavish of its lustre unrepressed;

But we have drifted far

From where his kisses are,

And in this landward-lying shade we let our paddles rest.

 

The river, deep and still,

The maple-mantled hill,

The little yellow beach whereon we lie,

The puffs of heated breeze,

All sweetly whisper~ These

Are days that only come in a Canadian July.

 

So, silently we two

Lounge in our still canoe,

Nor fate, nor fortune matters to us now"

So long as we alone

May call this dream our own,

The breeze may die, the sail may droop, we care

not when or how.

 

 

~ E. Pauline Johnson (Tekahionwake), 1861-1913, Flint and Feather, 1912.

 

 





THE WINTER SCENE

I

The rutted roads are all like iron; skies

Are keen and brilliant; only the oak-leaves cling
In the bare woods, or the hardy bitter-sweet;
Drivers have put their sheepskin jackets on;
And all the ponds are sealed with sheeted ice
That rings with stroke of skate and hockey-stick,
Or in the twilight cracks with running whoop.
Bring in the logs of oak and hickory,
And make an ample blaze on the wide hearth.
Now is the time, with winter o'er the world,
For books and friends and yellow candle-light,
And timeless lingering by the settling fire.
While all the shuddering stars are keen with cold.

II

 

Out from the silent portal of the hours,

When frosts are come and all the hosts put on

Their burnished gear to march across the night

And o'er a darkened earth in splendor shine,

Slowly above the world Orion wheels

His glittering square, while on the shadowy hill

And throbbing like a sea-light through the dusk,

Great Sirius rises in his flashing blue.

Lord of the winter night, august and pure,

Returning year on year untouched by time,

To hearten faith with thine unfaltering fire,

There are no hurts that beauty cannot ease,

No ills that love cannot at last repair,

In the victorious progress of the soul.

]

~ Bliss Carman (1861 - 1929) Canadian poet.  SANCTUARY, SUNSHINE HOUSE SONNETS, The Winter Scene.
McClelland & Stewart 1929

Tomorrow:  Bliss Carman biography

 



WILD GEESE

 

To-night with snow in the November air,

Over the roof I heard that startling cry

Passing along the highway of the dark~

The Wild Geese going South.  Confused commands

As of a column on the march rang out

Clamorous and sharp against the frosty air.

And with an answering tumult in my heart

I too went hurrying out into the night

Was it from some deep immemorial past

I learned those summoning signals and alarms,

And still must answer to my brothers' call?

I knew the darkling hope that bade them rise

From Northern lakes, and with courageous hearts

Adventure forth on their unchartered quest.

 

~Bliss Carman (1861 - 1929) Canadian Poet Laureate/ SANCTUARY SUNSHINE HOUSE SONNETS McClelland & Stewart 1929