Frederick George Scott

(7 April 1861 – 19 January 1944 / Montreal)

Frederick George Scott Poems

1. Inscription 3/31/2012
2. Justin 3/31/2012
3. Evolution 3/31/2012
4. Resignation 3/31/2012
5. In Memoriam 3/31/2012
6. In Memoriam 3/31/2012
7. British War Song 3/31/2012
8. The Poet's Song 3/31/2012
9. Estrangement 3/31/2012
10. On The Cliff 3/31/2012
11. Lines Written On Finishing The Life Of Milton 3/31/2012
12. Isolation 3/31/2012
13. Too Late 3/31/2012
14. A Mood 3/31/2012
15. Knowledge 3/31/2012
16. Beyond 3/31/2012
17. A Fancy 3/31/2012
18. Jack 3/31/2012
19. Under The Pines 3/31/2012
20. An Ode 3/31/2012
21. A Question 3/31/2012
22. On Darwin's Tomb In Westminster Abbey 3/31/2012
23. Epitaph On Dr. Jenner 3/31/2012
24. Wahonomin 3/31/2012
25. A Wayside Cross 3/31/2012
26. A Birthday 3/31/2012
27. Across The Sea 3/31/2012
28. Love's Shadows 3/31/2012
29. On Being Given A Piece Of Edelweiss Before Visiting Switzerland 3/31/2012
30. Rome 3/31/2012
31. Words 3/31/2012
32. The Poet's Empire 3/31/2012
33. In Memoriam E.S. 3/31/2012
34. Truth 3/31/2012
35. Shakespeare 3/31/2012
36. At Madame Tussaud's 3/31/2012
37. The Soul's Quest 3/31/2012
38. Westminster Abbey 3/31/2012
39. New Year's Eve 3/31/2012
40. Catholicism 3/31/2012
Best Poem of Frederick George Scott

To France

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.

What for all time will the harvest be, Sister?
What will spring up from the seed that is sown?
Freedom and peace and goodwill among Nations,
Love that will bind us with love all our own.

Bright is the path that is opening before us,
Upward and onward it mounts through the night:
Sword shall not sever the bonds that unite us
Leading the world to the fullness of ...

Read the full of To France

At Nightfall

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.
Though autumn clouds obscure the starry height,
And winds are noisy and the land is drear,
In this blank room I feel my lost love near,
And hear you playing--hands so small and white.
The shadowy organ sings its songs again,

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