Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts (10 January 1860 – 26 November 1943 / Douglas, New Brunswick)
The Autumn Thistles
The morning sky is white with mist, the earth
White with the inspiration of the dew.
The harvest light is on the hills anew,
And cheer in the grave acres' fruitful girth.
Only in this high pasture is there dearth,
Where the gray thistles crowd in ranks austere,
As if the sod, close-cropt for many a year,
Brought only bane and bitterness to birth.
But in the crisp air's amethystine wave
How the harsh stalks are washed with radiance now,
How gleams the harsh turf where the crickets lie
Dew-freshened in their burnished armour brave!
Since earth could not endure nor heaven allow
Aught of unlovely in the morn's clear eye.
Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts's Other Poems
- All Night the Lone Cicada
- An April Adoration
- An Epitaph for a Husbandman
- At the Gates of Spring
- Ave! (An Ode for the Shelley Centenary, ...
- Bat, Bat, Come Under my Hat
- Cambrai and Marne
- Canadian Streams
- Grey Rocks, and Greyer Sea
- Hilltop Song
- In an Old Barn
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