Emily Pauline Johnson

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

Emily Pauline Johnson Poems

81. Moonset 1/1/2004
82. Beyond The Blue 1/1/2004
83. Ojistoh 1/1/2004
84. Finale 1/1/2004
85. The Cattle Thief 1/1/2004
86. As Red Men Die 1/1/2004
87. Autumn's Orchestra 1/1/2004
88. Aspens 1/1/2004
89. Canada 1/1/2004
90. A Toast 1/1/2004
91. The Giant Oak 1/1/2004
92. At Sunset 1/1/2004
93. A Cry From An Indian Wife 1/1/2004
94. Harvest Time 1/1/2004
95. Fire-Flowers 1/1/2004
96. Close By 1/1/2004
97. Canadian Born 1/1/2004

Comments about Emily Pauline Johnson

  • EPIC GAMES (3/13/2019 4:00:00 PM)

    play epic games it is very good epic games is the best please play it. we made millions no. billions of dollars.

    2 person liked.
    7 person did not like.
  • meme me (3/13/2019 3:59:00 PM)

    does anyone play fortnite or apex...?

    2 person liked.
    4 person did not like.
  • Mohammed Asim Nehal (2/21/2019 12:27:00 PM)

    Wonderful profile:
    Johnson was notable for her poems and performances that celebrated her First Nations heritage; her father was a Mohawk chief of mixed ancestry, and her mother an English immigrant.

    5 person liked.
    3 person did not like.
  • UR MOM (2/14/2019 12:00:00 PM)

    Leedle leedle leedle

    4 person liked.
    3 person did not like.
  • yoted (9/3/2018 8:28:00 AM)


    8 person liked.
    2 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

    48 person liked.
    12 person did not like.
Best Poem of Emily Pauline Johnson


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

Read the full of Fire-Flowers


Sleep, with her tender balm, her touch so kind,
Has passed me by;
Afar I see her vesture, velvet-lined,
Float silently;
O! Sleep, my tired eyes had need of thee!
Is thy sweet kiss not meant to-night for me?

Peace, with the blessings that I longed for so,
Has passed me by;

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