Emily Pauline Johnson

[Tekahionwake] (10 March 1861 – 7 March 1913 / Chiefswood, Ontario)

Emily Pauline Johnson Poems

1. A Cry From An Indian Wife 1/1/2004
2. A Prodigal 1/1/2004
3. A Toast 1/1/2004
4. An Etching 1/1/2004
5. And He Said, Fight On 4/7/2010
6. As Red Men Die 1/1/2004
7. Aspens 1/1/2004
8. At Crow's Nest Pass 1/1/2004
9. At Half-Mast 1/1/2004
10. At Husking Time 1/1/2004
11. At Sunset 1/1/2004
12. Autumn's Orchestra 1/1/2004
13. Beyond The Blue 1/1/2004
14. Brandon 1/1/2004
15. Brier: Good Friday 4/7/2010
16. Calgary Of The Plains 1/1/2004
17. Canada 1/1/2004
18. Canadian Born 1/1/2004
19. Christmastide 1/1/2004
20. Close By 1/1/2004
21. Dawendine 1/1/2004
22. Day Dawn 1/1/2004
23. Easter 1/1/2004
24. Erie Waters 1/1/2004
25. Fasting 1/1/2004
26. Finale 1/1/2004
27. Fire-Flowers 1/1/2004
28. Give Us Barabbas 4/7/2010
29. Golden--Of The Selkirks 1/1/2004
30. Good-Bye 1/1/2004
31. Guard Of The Eastern Gate 1/1/2004
32. Hare-Bell 1/1/2004
33. Harvest Time 1/1/2004
34. In Grey Days 1/1/2004
35. In The Shadows 1/1/2004
36. Joe 5/8/2012
37. Lady Icicle 1/1/2004
38. Lady Lorgnette 1/1/2004
39. Low Tide At St. Andrews 1/1/2004
40. Lullaby Of The Iroquois 1/1/2004
Best Poem of Emily Pauline Johnson

Canadian Born

We first saw light in Canada, the land beloved of God;
We are the pulse of Canada, its marrow and its blood:
And we, the men of Canada, can face the world and brag
That we were born in Canada beneath the British flag.

Few of us have the blood of kings, few are of courtly birth,
But few are vagabonds or rogues of doubtful name and worth;
And all have one credential that entitles us to brag--
That we were born in Canada beneath the British flag.

We've yet to make our money, we've yet to make our fame,
But we have gold and glory in our clean colonial ...

Read the full of Canadian Born

Moonset

Idles the night wind through the dreaming firs,
That waking murmur low,
As some lost melody returning stirs
The love of long ago;
And through the far, cool distance, zephyr fanned.
The moon is sinking into shadow-land.

The troubled night-bird, calling plaintively,
Wanders on restless wing;

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