Duncan Campbell Scott

(2 August 1862 – 19 December 1947 / Ottawa, Ontario)

Duncan Campbell Scott Poems

1. A Legend Of Christ's Nativity 4/19/2010
2. A Love Song 4/19/2010
3. Afterwards 1/3/2003
4. An Impromptu 4/19/2010
5. Angel 4/19/2010
6. Angelus 1/3/2003
7. At Sea 4/19/2010
8. At The Cedars 1/3/2003
9. At The Gill-Nets 4/19/2010
10. At William Maclennan's Grave 4/19/2010
11. Avis 1/3/2003
12. By A Child's Bed 4/19/2010
13. Christmas Folk-Song 4/19/2010
14. Dream Voyageurs 4/19/2010
15. Ecstasy 4/19/2010
16. Elizabeth Speaks 4/19/2010
17. Enigma 1/3/2003
18. Fantasia 4/19/2010
19. Feuilles D'Automne 4/19/2010
20. Fragment Of An Ode To Canada 4/19/2010
21. From Beyond 4/19/2010
22. From 'Lines In Memory Of Edmund Morris' 4/19/2010
23. From Shadow 1/3/2003
24. Frost Magic 4/19/2010
25. Improvisation On An Old Song 4/19/2010
26. In Snow-Time 4/19/2010
27. Life And Death 4/19/2010
28. Lines In Memory Of Edmund Morris 4/19/2010
29. Madonna With Two Angels 4/19/2010
30. Meditation At Perugia 4/19/2010
31. Mid-August 4/19/2010
32. Mist And Frost 4/19/2010
33. New Year's Night, 1916 4/19/2010
34. Night 4/19/2010
35. Night Burial In The Forest 4/19/2010
36. Night Hymns On Lake Nipigon 1/3/2003
37. O Turn Once More 4/19/2010
38. Ode For The Keats Centenary 1/3/2003
39. Off Riviere Du Loup 4/19/2010
40. Permanence 1/3/2003
Best Poem of Duncan Campbell Scott

The Forsaken

I
Once in the winter
Out on a lake
In the heart of the north-land,
Far from the Fort
And far from the hunters,
A Chippewa woman
With her sick baby,
Crouched in the last hours
Of a great storm.
Frozen and hungry,
She fished through the ice
With a line of the twisted
Bark of the cedar,
And a rabbit-bone hook
Polished and barbed;
Fished with the bare hook
All through the wild day,
Fished and caught nothing;
While the young chieftain
Tugged at her breasts,
Or slept in the lacings
Of the warm tikanagan.
All the ...

Read the full of The Forsaken

The Onondaga Madonna

She stands full-throated and with careless pose,
This woman of a weird and waning race,
The tragic savage lurking in her face,
Where all her pagan passion burns and glows;
Her blood is mingled with her ancient foes,
And thrills with war and wildness in her veins;
Her rebel lips are dabbled with the stains
Of feuds and forays and her father's woes.

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