William Canton (27 October 1845 – 2 May 1926) was a British poet, journalist and writer, now best known for his contributions to children's literature. These include his series of three books, beginning with The Invisible Playmate, written for his daughter Winifred Vida (1891-1901). In his lifetime he was known for his use of recent archeological evidence of prehistory in his ... more »
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William Canton Poems
In praise of little children I will say God first made man, then found a better way For woman, but his third way was the best.
Did you ever read or hear How the Aid—(God bless the Aid! More earnest prayer than that was never prayed.)
The Sweet Pea
Oh, what has been born in the night To bask in this blithe summer morn? She peers, in a dream of delight, For something new-made or new-born.
With rakish eye and plenished crop, Oblivious of the farmer's gun, Upon the naked ash-tree top
Enormous sea; immeasurable night! The shoreless waters, heaving spectral-white, Vibrate with showers and chains of golden sparks.
In the heart of the white summer mist lay a green little piece of the world; And the tops of the beeches were lost in the mist, and the
Heights and Depths
He walked in glory on the hills; We dalesmen envied from afar The heights and rose-lit pinnacles Which placed him nigh the evening star.
Last June—how slight a thing to tell!— One straggling leaf beneath the limes Against the sunset rose and fell,
East of Eden
Far down upon the plain the large round moon Sank red in jungle mist; but on the heights The cold clear darkness burned with restless stars:
When the herds were watching In the midnight chill, Came a spotless lambkin From the heavenly hill.
By the Fireside II
In the April sun at baby-house she plays. Her rooms are traced with stones and bits of bricks; For warmth she lays a hearth with little sticks,
In the orchard blithely waking, Through the blossom, loud and clear, Pipes the goldfinch, “Day is breaking; Waken, Babsie; May is here!
A New Poet
I WRITE. He sits beside my chair, And scribbles, too, in hushed delight; He dips his pen in charméd air: What is it he pretends to write?
Si j'avais un arpent
Oh, had I but a plot of earth, on plain or vale or hill, With running water babbling through, in torrent, spring, or rill, I'd plant a tree, an o ...
Comments about William Canton
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
In praise of little children I will say
God first made man, then found a better way
For woman, but his third way was the best.
Of all created things, the loveliest
And most divine are children. Nothing here
Can be to us more gracious or more dear.
And though, when God saw all his works were good,
There was no rosy flower of babyhood,
’T was said of children in a later day
That none could enter Heaven save such as they.
The earth, which feels the flowering of a thorn,
Was glad, O little child, when you were born;
The earth, which thrills when ...