Bliss William Carman

(15 April 1861 – 8 June 1929 / New Brunswick)

Bliss William Carman Poems

1. The Garden Of Saint Rose 9/13/2010
2. The Mendicants 9/13/2010
3. The Unreturning 9/13/2010
4. The Homestead 9/13/2010
5. The Joys Of The Road 9/13/2010
6. To Rudyard Kipling 9/13/2010
7. White Nassau 9/13/2010
8. In The Workshop 9/13/2010
9. Lord Of My Heart's Elation 9/13/2010
10. Moonrise 9/13/2010
11. Night Lyric 9/13/2010
12. On The Plaza 9/13/2010
13. Off Monomoy 9/13/2010
14. In The Wings 9/13/2010
15. The Soul Of April 9/13/2010
16. The Vagabonds 9/13/2010
17. The Sleepers 9/13/2010
18. The Nancy's Pride 9/13/2010
19. The Sending Of The Magi 9/13/2010
20. Winter Twilight 9/13/2010
21. Under The April Moon 9/13/2010
22. Veni Creator 9/13/2010
23. Lockerbie Street 9/13/2010
24. Low Tide On Grand Pré 9/13/2010
25. Resignation 9/13/2010
26. Songs Of The Grass 9/13/2010
27. Over The Wintry Threshold 9/13/2010
28. Spring Night 9/13/2010
29. Weather Of The Soul 9/13/2010
30. The Heart Of Night 9/13/2010
31. The Eavesdropper 9/13/2010
32. The Faithless Lover 9/13/2010
33. The Ships Of Saint John 9/13/2010
34. The Rainbird 9/13/2010
35. The Redwing 9/13/2010
36. The World Voice 9/13/2010
37. Threnody For A Poet 9/13/2010
38. The Weed’s Counsel 9/13/2010
39. Why 9/13/2010
40. Peace 9/13/2010
Best Poem of Bliss William Carman

A Vagabond Song

There is something in the autumn that is native to my blood—
Touch of manner, hint of mood;
And my heart is like a rhyme,
With the yellow and the purple and the crimson keeping time.

The scarlet of the maples can shake me like a cry
Of bugles going by.
And my lonely spirit thrills
To see the frosty asters like a smoke upon the hills.

There is something in October sets the gypsy blood astir;
We must rise and follow her,
When from every hill of flame
She calls and calls each vagabond by name.

Read the full of A Vagabond Song

A Fireside Vision

ONCE I walked the world enchanted
Through the scented woods of spring,
Hand in hand with Love, in rapture
Just to hear a bluebird sing.
Now the lonely winds of autumn
Moan about my gusty eaves,
As I sit beside the fire
Listening to the flying leaves.
As the dying embers settle

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