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Of great cool drops that fall with sudden splash | Hovered night above | Laughing Skies | O! Lure of the Lost Lagoon |
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A smell of moss and grasses warm with dew, and far aloft | A dying night, a waking day, and calm but all on me | The Shadows of the shore | Your upchurning waves downcrashing |
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The sun's red pulses beat | Up on the hills against the sky | Good morning Vancouver! | Summer is lying asleep today |
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The pine trees whispering | Through branches gaunt and black | That her fingertips are dusting | And calm embrace of silence |
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Into the crimson portals ajar | In clouds of colouring that run wine-like along the rim of day | A gusty freshening of humid air | August is laughing across the skies |
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Like a breeze through branches sifting | Another day set free | I hear the call of the singing firs I | I hear the call of the singing firs II |
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When the firs finger faintly on the strings | The firs, weirdly black bare that stand with great strength | The dawn, grey garbed and velvet shod, is wandering everywhere | The Northern Lights dance down her plains with soft and silvery feet |
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Yet I am not alone . . . | Solitude | The Morning Trees | From Boulder Unto Boulder |
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Sing to us cedars; your voice is so lowly | Waiting for the Storm | The plover's passing wing, his lullaby | Sing to us cedars; the night wind is sighing |
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And here's to the days that are coming | Before the Storm | There are fires on Lulu Island and the smoke uplifting lingers | The cedars chanting vespers to the sea |
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Sing to us cedars; the twilight is creeping. | The rocks give shelter that the sands deny | The cedar trees have sung their vesper hymn | The Two Sisters |
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What of the days when we two dreamed together Days marvelously fair. | A sky of blue and grey, Some stormy clouds that play | All the day long the vapours played. At Blindfold in the city streets | Framed in the salt sea winds |
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Waves that foam and fall and lift | Night of mid-June — in heavy vapours dying | And April dawned with suns aflame | As sinks the sun within that world of wine |
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The long, long night has been bitter and lone but now 'tis gone | Longing for Daybreak | And a crystal garment o'er her | Dawn lights her candles in the east once more |
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The silence of the sands when tides are low | And she - between the ocean and the town | My ear can scarcely catch that whispered note |