Emily Pauline Johnson

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

Emily Pauline Johnson Poems

81. The Sleeping Giant (Thunder Bay, Lake Superior) 1/1/2004
82. The Song My Paddle Sings 4/7/2010
83. The Songster 1/1/2004
84. The Trail To Lillooet 1/1/2004
85. The Train Dogs 1/1/2004
86. The Vagabonds 1/1/2004
87. The Vine 1/1/2004
88. The Wolf 1/1/2004
89. Thistle-Down 1/1/2004
90. Through Time And Bitter Distance 4/7/2010
91. Under Canvas 1/1/2004
92. Wave-Won 1/1/2004
93. When George Was King 4/7/2010
94. Where Leaps The Ste. Marie 1/1/2004
95. Wolverine 4/7/2010
96. Workworn 1/1/2004
97. Your Mirror Frame 1/1/2004
Best Poem of Emily Pauline Johnson

A Cry From An Indian Wife

My forest brave, my Red-skin love, farewell;
We may not meet to-morrow; who can tell
What mighty ills befall our little band,
Or what you'll suffer from the white man's hand?
Here is your knife! I thought 'twas sheathed for aye.
No roaming bison calls for it to-day;
No hide of prairie cattle will it maim;
The plains are bare, it seeks a nobler game:
'Twill drink the life-blood of a soldier host.
Go; rise and strike, no matter what the cost.
Yet stay. Revolt not at the Union Jack,
Nor raise Thy hand against this stripling pack
Of white-faced ...

Read the full of A Cry From An Indian Wife


From out the west, where darkling storm-clouds float,
The 'waking wind pipes soft its rising note.

From out the west, o'erhung with fringes grey,
The wind preludes with sighs its roundelay,

Then blowing, singing, piping, laughing loud,
It scurries on before the grey storm-cloud;

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