Sir Charles GD Roberts
Sir Charles GD Roberts Poems
|1.||The Herring Weir||1/3/2003|
|3.||Bat, Bat, Come Under My Hat||1/3/2003|
|4.||An Epitaph For A Husbandman||1/3/2003|
|5.||O Earth, Sufficing All Our Needs||1/3/2003|
|6.||The Departing Of Gluskâp||1/3/2003|
|8.||The Salt Flats||1/3/2003|
|9.||The Great And Little Weavers||1/3/2003|
|10.||Ave! (An Ode For The Shelley Centennary, 1892)||1/3/2003|
|11.||The Frosted Pane||1/3/2003|
|12.||The Potato Harvest||1/3/2003|
|14.||Twilight On Sixth Avenue At Ninth Street||1/3/2003|
|15.||The Cow Pasture||1/3/2003|
|19.||In An Old Barn||1/3/2003|
|21.||The Autumn Thistles||1/3/2003|
|22.||The Solitary Woodsman||1/3/2003|
Comments about Sir Charles GD Roberts
My glad feet shod with the glittering steel
I was the god of the wingèd heel.
The hills in the far white sky were lost;
The world lay still in the wide white frost;
And the woods hung hushed in their long white dream
By the ghostly, glimmering, ice-blue stream.
Here was a pathway, smooth like glass,
Where I and the wandering wind might pass
To the far-off palaces, drifted deep,
Where Winter's retinue rests in sleep.
I followed the lure, I fled like a bird,
Till the startled hollows awoke and heard
A spinning whisper, a ...
Stumps, and harsh rocks, and prostrate trunks all charred,
And gnarled roots naked to the sun and rain,--
They seem in their grim stillness to complain,
And be their paint the evening peace is jarred.
These ragged acres fire and the axe have scarred,
And many summers not assuaged their pain.
In vain the pink and saffron light, in vain
The pale dew on the hillocks stripped and marred!