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

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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