Emily Pauline Johnson
Emily Pauline Johnson Poems
|81.||The Sleeping Giant (Thunder Bay, Lake Superior)||1/1/2004|
|82.||The Song My Paddle Sings||4/7/2010|
|84.||The Trail To Lillooet||1/1/2004|
|85.||The Train Dogs||1/1/2004|
|90.||Through Time And Bitter Distance||4/7/2010|
|93.||When George Was King||4/7/2010|
|94.||Where Leaps The Ste. Marie||1/1/2004|
|97.||Your Mirror Frame||1/1/2004|
And only where the forest fires have sped,
Scorching relentlessly the cool north lands,
A sweet wild flower lifts its purple head,
And, like some gentle spirit sorrow-fed,
It hides the scars with almost human hands.
And only to the heart that knows of grief,
Of desolating fire, of human pain,
There comes some purifying sweet belief,
Some fellow-feeling beautiful, if brief.
And life revives, and blossoms once again
Night 'neath the northern skies, lone, black, and grim:
Naught but the starlight lies 'twixt heaven, and him.
Of man no need has he, of God, no prayer;
He and his Deity are brothers there.
Above his bivouac the firs fling down
Through branches gaunt and black, their needles brown.