Buie Annajohn.

Buie Annajohn was the king's black mare,
Buie, Buie, Buie Annajohn!
Satin was her coat and silk was her hair,
Buie Annajohn,
The young king's own.
March with the white moon, march with the sun,
March with the merry men, Buie Annajohn!

Buie Annajohn, when the dew lay hoar,
(Buie, Buie, Buie Annajohn!)
Down through the meadowlands went to war,--
Buie Annajohn,
The young king's own.
March by the river road, march by the dune,
March with the merry men, Buie Annajohn!

Buie Annajohn had the heart of flame,
Buie, Buie, Buie Annajohn!
First of the hosts to the hostings came
Buie Annajohn,
The young king's own.
March till we march the red sun down,
March with the merry men, Buie Annajohn!

Back from the battle at the close of day,
(Buie, Buie, Buie Annajohn!)
Came with the war cheers, came with a neigh,
Buie Annajohn,
The young king's own.
Oh, heavy was the sword that we laid on;
But half of the heave was Buie Annajohn,
Buie, Buie, Buie Annajohn!

Bliss Carman

Bliss Carman was a Canadian poet, born in Fredericton, New Brunswick. He is best known for his nature poems and lyrical verse. Carman was a leading figure in the Confederation period of Canadian literature and is often remembered for his collections such as 'Low Tide on Grand Pré' and 'Songs of the Sea Children'. His work reflects a deep romanticism and connection to the natural world. Throughout his career, he collaborated with several other poets, including Charles G.D. Roberts and Archibald Lampman.

Bliss Carman

An Easter Market.

Bliss Carman, Simple Poetry

A Toast.

Bliss Carman, Simple Poetry

A Vagabond Song.

Bliss Carman, Simple Poetry

Behind The Arras

Bliss Carman, Simple Poetry

English

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The Bold Buccaneer

One very rough day on the Pride of the Fray
In the scuppers a poor little cabin-boy lay,
When the Bosun drew nigh with wrath in his eye
And gave him a kick to remember him by,
As he cried with a sneer: What good are you here?
Go home to your mammy, my bold buccaneer.

Now the Captain beheld, and his pity upwelled:
With a plug in the peeper the Bosun he felled.
With humility grand he extended his hand
And helped the poor lad, who was weeping, to stand,
As he cried: Have no fear; Im the manager here.
Take heart, and youll yet be a bold buccaneer.

But how he did flare when the lad then and there
Doffed his cap and shook down a gold banner of hair.
Though his movements were shy, hed a laugh in his eye,
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Three Of A Kind.

Three of us without a care
In the red September
Tramping down the roads of Maine,
Making merry with the rain,
With the fellow winds a-fare
Where the winds remember.

Three of us with shocking hats,
Tattered and unbarbered,
Happy with the splash of mud,
With the highways in our blood,
Bearing down on Deacon Platt's
Where last year we harbored.

We've come down from Kennebec,
Tramping since last Sunday,
Loping down the coast of Maine,
With the sea for a refrain,
And the maples neck and neck
All the way to Fundy.

Sometimes lodging in an inn,
Cosey as a dormouse--
Sometimes sleeping on a knoll
With no rooftree but the Pole--
Sometimes halely welcomed in
At an old-time farmhouse.

Loafing under ledge and ...

Bliss Carman

The Ships Of St. John

Smile, you inland hills and rivers!
Flush, you mountains in the dawn!
But my roving heart is seaward
With the ships of gray St. John.

Fair the land lies, full of August,
Meadow island, shingly bar,
Open barns and breezy twilight,
Peace and the mild evening star.

Gently now this gentlest country
The old habitude takes on,
But my wintry heart is outbound
With the great ships of St. John.

Once in your wide arms you held me,
Till the man-child was a man,
Canada, great nurse and mother
Of the young sea-roving clan.

Always your bright face above me
Through the dreams of boyhood shone;
Now far alien countries call me
With the ships of gray St. John.

Swing, you tides, up out of Fundy!
Blow, you white fogs, in from...

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The Song Of The Six Sisters.

[Manitoba, Assiniboia, Saskatchewan, Athabasca, Alberta, and British Columbia.]

At a feast in the east of our central plains,
Girt with the sheaths of the wheaten grains,
Manitoba lay where the sunflowers blow,
And sang to the chime of the Red River's flow:
"I am child of the spirit whom all men own,
My prairie no longer is green and lone,
For the hosts of the settler have ringed me round,
And his bride am I with the harvest crowned."

On her steed at speed o'er her burning grass
We saw Assiniboia pass:
"The bison and antelope still are mine,
And the Indian wars on my boundary-line;
Where his knife is dyed I love to ride
By the cactus blooms or the marshes wide,
While the quivering columns of thunder fire
Give light to the darkened land's desire."

John Campbell

Sir Hugh the Palmer

    I

    He kneeled among a waste of sands
        Before the Mother-Maid,
    But on the far green forest-lands
        His steadfast eyes were stayed,
    And like a knight of stone his hands
        He straightened while he prayed.

    "Lady, beyond all women fair,
        Beyond all saints benign,
    Whose living heart through life I bear
        In mystery divine,
    Hear thou and grant me this my prayer,
        Or grant no prayer of mine.

    "The fever of my spirit's pain
        Heal thou with heavenly scorn;
    The dust that but of dust is fain
        Leave thou in dust forlorn;
    Yea! bury love to rise again
        Meet for eternal morn.

    "So by thy grace my inward eyes
        Thy beauty still ...

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The Ballad Of A Bachelor

Listen, ladies, while I sing
The ballad of John Henry King.

John Henry was a bachelor,
His age was thirty-three or four.

Two maids for his affection vied,
And each desired to be his bride,

And bravely did they strive to bring
Unto their feet John Henry King.

John Henry liked them both so well,
To save his life he could not tell

Which he most wished to be his bride,
Nor was he able to decide.

Fair Kate was jolly, bright, and gay,
And sunny as a summer day;

Marie was kind, sedate, and sweet,
With gentle ways and manners neat.

Each was so dear that John confessed
He could not tell which he liked best.

He studied them for quite a year,
And still found no solution near,

And might have s...

Ellis Parker Butler