Death Of Wolfe.

"They run! they run!" - "Who run?"    Not they
Who faced that decimating fire
As coolly as if human ire
    Were rooted from their hearts;
They run, while he who led the way
So bravely on that glorious day,
Burns for one word with keen desire
    Ere waning life departs!

"They run! they run!" - "Who run?" he cried,
As swiftly to his pallid brow,
Like crimson sunlight upon snow,
    The anxious blood returned;
"The French! the French!" a voice replied,
When quickly paled life's ebbing tide,
And though his words were weak and low
    His eye with valour burned.

"Thank God!    I die in peace," he said;
And calmly yielding up his breath,
There trod the shadowy realms of death
    A good man and a brave;
Through all the regions of the dead,
Behold his spirit, spectre-led,
Crowned with the amaranthine wreath
    That blooms not for the slave.

Charles Sangster

Charles Sangster was a Canadian poet born on July 16, 1822, in Kingston, Ontario. Sangster is considered one of Canada's first poets of significance, and his work often reflects the Canadian wilderness and nationalist themes. Known for his collections "The St. Lawrence and the Saguenay" and "Hesperus and Other Poems and Lyrics," Sangster's poetry demonstrates a deep connection to Canadian landscapes and identity. He died on December 9, 1893. His contributions helped lay the foundation for future Canadian literature.

Charles Sangster

Margery.

Charles Sangster, Simple Poetry

Song - I'd Be A Fairy King.

Charles Sangster, Simple Poetry

Flowers.

Charles Sangster, Simple Poetry

Hopeless.

Charles Sangster, Simple Poetry

English

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Death Of Sir John.

What news to all alike brings startling sorrow?
And he is dead, the vigorous chieftain dead?
Nor e'en for him would death still brook to-morrow?
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No more by him the hot debate be led;
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Of him the State's most skilful, ablest head,
Albeit not her sternest, not her best,
But such is over now, then let his ashes rest.

When all was anarchy, he seized the reins,
And broke and trained the fiery coursers young,
And from so many wide and fair domains
One great Dominion 'neath his guidance sprung,
Which he made glorious, till the nations rung
With our renown and his immortal name.
But now his day was o'er; his work was done.
'Twas well. - He lived to hear his land's acclaim,

W. M. MacKeracher

Colin.

Who'll dive for the dead men now,
Since Colin is gone?
Who'll feel for the anguished brow,
Since Colin is gone?
True Feeling is not confined
To the learned or lordly mind;
Nor can it be bought and sold
In exchange for an Alp of gold;
For Nature, that never lies,
Flings back with indignant scorn
The counterfeit deed, still-born,
In the face of the seeming wise,
In the Janus face of the huckster race
Who barter her truths for lies.

Who'll wrestle with dangers dire,
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Who'll fearlessly brave the maniac wave,
Thoughtless of self, human life to save,
Unmoved by the storm-fiend's ire?
Who, Shadrach-like, will walk through fire,
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Charles Sangster

Fighting Mac" A Life Tragedy

A pistol-shot rings round and round the world:
In pitiful defeat a warrior lies.
A last defiance to dark Death is hurled,
A last wild challenge shocks the sunlit skies.
Alone he falls with wide, wan, woeful eyes:
Eyes that could smile at death - could not face shame.

Alone, alone he paced his narrow room,
In the bright sunshine of that Paris day;
Saw in his thought the awful hand of doom;
Saw in his dream his glory pass away;
Tried in his heart, his weary heart, to pray:
"O God! who made me, give me strength to face
The spectre of this bitter, black disgrace."

*    *    *    *    *

The burn brawls darkly down the shaggy glen,
The bee-kissed heather blooms around the door;
He sees himself a barefoot boy again,
Bending o'er page of legenda...

Robert William Service

The Young Lieutenant

The young lieutenant's face was grey.
As came the day.
The watchers saw it lifting white
And ghostlike from the pool of night.
His eyes were wide and strangely lit.
Each thought in that unhallowed pit:
I, too, may seem like one who dies
With wide, set eyes.

He stood so still we thought it death,
For through the breath
Of reeking shell we came, and fire,
To hell, unlit, of blood and mire.
Tianced in a chill delirium
We wondered, though our lips were dumb
What precious thing his fingers pressed
Against his breast.

His left hand clutched so lovingly
What none might see.
All bloodless were his lips beneath
The straight, white, rigid clip of teeth.
His eyes turned to the distance dim;
Our sleepless eyes were all on him.
H...

Edward

S. I. W.

        "I will to the King,
        And offer him consolation in his trouble,
        For that man there has set his teeth to die,
        And being one that hates obedience,
        Discipline, and orderliness of life,
        I cannot mourn him."
                                W. B. Yeats.



    Patting goodbye, doubtless they told the lad
    He'd always show the Hun a brave man's face;
    Father would sooner him dead than in disgrace,--
    Was proud to see him going, aye, and glad.
    Perhaps his Mother whimpered how she'd fret
    Until he got a nice, safe wound to nurse.
    Sisters would wish girls too could shoot, charge, curse, . . .
    Brothers--would send his favourite cigarette,
    Each week, month after month, they wrote the same...

Wilfred Edward Salter Owen

Theirs

I.

Fate summoned, in gray-bearded age, to act
A history stranger than his written fact,
Him who portrayed the splendor and the gloom
Of that great hour when throne and altar fell
With long death-groan which still is audible.
He, when around the walls of Paris rung
The Prussian bugle like the blast of doom,
And every ill which follows unblest war
Maddened all France from Finistere to Var,
The weight of fourscore from his shoulders flung,
And guided Freedom in the path he saw
Lead out of chaos into light and law,
Peace, not imperial, but republican,
And order pledged to all the Rights of Man.

II.

Death called him from a need as imminent
As that from which the Silent William went
When powers of evil, like the smiting seas
On Holla...

John Greenleaf Whittier