Frederick George Scott
Frederick George Scott was a Canadian poet and author, known as the Poet of the Laurentians. He is sometimes associated with Canada's Confederation Poets, a group that included Charles G.D. Roberts , Bliss William Carman, Archibald Lampman, and Duncan Campbell Scott . Scott published 13 books of Christian and patriotic poetry. Scott was a British imperialist who wrote many hymns to the British Empire—eulogizing his country's roles in the Boer Wars and World War I. Many of his poems use the natural world symbolically to convey deeper spiritual meaning. Frederick George Scott was the father of poet F. R. Scott.
Frederick George Scott was born 7 April 1861 in ... more »
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Frederick George Scott Poems
In The Winter Woods
WINTER forests mutely standing Naked on your bed of snow, Wide your knotted arms expanding To the biting winds that blow,
What is the gift we have given thee, Sister? What is the trust we have laid in thy hand? Hearts of our bravest, our best, and our dearest, Blood of our blood we have sown in thy land.
O rising Sun, so fair and gay, What are you bringing me, I pray, Of sorrow or of joy to-day?
In lonely watches night by night Great visions burst upon my sight, For down the stretches of the sky The hosts of dead go marching by.
The Unnamed Lake
It sleeps among the thousand hills Where no man ever trod, And only nature's music fills The silences of God.
O little hands, long vanished in the night-- Sweet fairy hands that were my treasure here-- My heart is full of music from some sphere, Where ye make melody for God's delight.
WHY hurry, little river, Why hurry to the sea? There is nothing there to do But to sink into the blue
The Sting of Death
`Is Sin, then, fair?' Nay, love, come now, Put back the hair From his sunny brow;
The immortal spirit hath no bars To circumscribe its dwelling place; My soul hath pastured with the stars Upon the meadow-lands of space.
The Burden of Time
Before the seas and mountains were brought forth, I reigned. I hung the universe in space, I capped earth's poles with ice to South and North, And set the moving tides their bounds and place.
O GRIP the earth, ye forest trees, Grip well the earth to-night, The Storm-God rides across the seas To greet the morning light.
We Hail Thee Now, O Jesus
We hail thee now, O Jesus, thy presence here we own, though sight and touch have failed us, and faith perceives alone;
These mountains reign alone, they do not share The transitory life of woods and streams; Wrapt in the deep solemnity of dreams, They drain the sunshine of the upper air.
I hear a cry from the Sansard cave, O mother, will no one hearken? A cry of the lost, will no one save? A cry of the dead, though the oceans rave,
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
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Edgar Allan Poe
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In The Winter Woods
WINTER forests mutely standing
Naked on your bed of snow,
Wide your knotted arms expanding
To the biting winds that blow,
Nought ye heed of storm or stress,
Stubborn, silent, passionless.
Buried is each woodland treasure,
Gone the leaves and mossy rills,
Gone the birds that filled with pleasure
All the valleys and the hills;
Ye alone of all that host
Stand like soldiers at your post.
Grand old trees, the words ye mutter,
Nodding in the frosty wind,
Wake some thoughts I cannot utter,
But which haunt the heart and mind,
With a meaning, ...