Emily Pauline Johnson

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

Emily Pauline Johnson Poems

1. Joe 5/8/2012
2. The King's Consort 1/1/2004
3. The Idlers 1/1/2004
4. Through Time And Bitter Distance 4/7/2010
5. When George Was King 4/7/2010
6. Workworn 1/1/2004
7. Where Leaps The Ste. Marie 1/1/2004
8. The Man In Chrysanthemum Land 1/1/2004
9. Lady Lorgnette 1/1/2004
10. The Pilot Of The Plains 4/7/2010
11. The Indian Corn Planter 1/1/2004
12. Low Tide At St. Andrews 1/1/2004
13. The Vine 1/1/2004
14. Easter 1/1/2004
15. Wave-Won 1/1/2004
16. Dawendine 1/1/2004
17. Under Canvas 1/1/2004
18. Your Mirror Frame 1/1/2004
19. Erie Waters 1/1/2004
20. Wolverine 4/7/2010
21. Give Us Barabbas 4/7/2010
22. The Firs 1/1/2004
23. And He Said, Fight On 4/7/2010
24. The Trail To Lillooet 1/1/2004
25. Prairie Greyhounds (C.P.R. "No. 1," Westbound) 1/1/2004
26. The Quill Worker 1/1/2004
27. The Ballad Of Yaada (A Legend Of The Pacific Coast) 1/1/2004
28. The Vagabonds 1/1/2004
29. Marshlands 1/1/2004
30. Fasting 1/1/2004
31. Golden--Of The Selkirks 1/1/2004
32. The City And The Sea 1/1/2004
33. The Art Of Alma-Tadema 1/1/2004
34. Brier: Good Friday 4/7/2010
35. Thistle-Down 1/1/2004
36. Brandon 1/1/2004
37. The Songster 1/1/2004
38. My English Letter 1/1/2004
39. The Camper 1/1/2004
40. At Half-Mast 1/1/2004

Comments about Emily Pauline Johnson

  • yoted (9/3/2018 8:28:00 AM)

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    2 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Jerry Apted Jerry Apted (2/14/2012 3:46:00 AM)

    Her words flew from her beating heart. Alas! this is now still. Her words will stay upon the pages for Eternity

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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