A poem of the twelfth month of the Great War from the revised 1923 edition of Robert Stead's The Empire Builders.
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A JOURNEY THROUGH CANADA'S FORGOTTEN, NEGLECTED AND SUPPRESSED WRITING
I'd met Mrs Fontaine twice before, once at the court, once at my office when she'd heard that I'd pay Tony's college fees. She had struck me as elderly, ill and pathetic. I guess I wanted her to be like that.Trivia: Night of Horns was first published in 1958 London by Secker & Warburg. The first American edition was published by Fawcett under the title Murder Comes Calling. Its back cover features dialogue that does not appear in the novel.
She opened the door.
She had on a negligee and a slip. The negligee showed most of the slip and the slip showed most of her breasts. Her feet were bare, her hair hadn't been combed in a while, her eyes were bleary and the rye on her breath would have knocked down a dray horse.
The Dusty Bookcase:
A Journey Through Canada'sForgotten, Neglected, and Suppressed Writing
Celebrate Alice by checking out all our coverage of her life and legacy and stay tuned – we may have more 100 lists up our sleeves.God, I hope not.
VICTORIA THE BEAUTIFUL
Canada's vast and myriad acres, —
Central prairies wheat's domain, —
Ancient cities of th' Atlantic, —
All have share in praise's strain.
But of thou,—Dominion's fairest.
Brightest, sceniest, beauteous spot.
Those who chant of other places.
These are they who know thee not.
VICTORIA!
Honoured name on British tongue, —
She who dignified the Throne,
Left a name, 'twill last as long,
Long as thou dost bear her own!
City thou, — Dominion's Queen.
Regal true in Nature's splendour;
None like thee can e'er be seen, —
None can say I'll mend her.
VICTORIA!
O, this City, all that's fair:
Thy boulevards beyond compare,
Trees of every shade and hue, —
Chestnut, maple, lilac, yew.
Rustic scenes and shady bowers.
City of roses, city of flowers!
Hollies green, some variegated, —
Glorious England here translated!
VICTORIA!
England's beauty known so wide;
(Surely thou art England's sister-twin,)
Truly thou art dignified,
Fair without and fair within!
Old Ocean laps thy numerous Bays,
Bright Sol bedecks thy Parks,
With emerald green thy winding ways.
Call forth extolled remarks!
VICTORIA!
Rocky headlands, sandy beaches;
Mounts aspire to meet the sun;
Nature loving thou dost teach us,
Whilst we round with motors run.
Gnarled old oaks and Douglas pine,
Gardens grand delights our fill,
But who can yet compare design
With the broom on Beacon Hill!
VICTORIA!
O'er the Straits of Juan de Fuca,
Olympic stately mountains see, —
Delighting visiting onlooker,
And he hails the sight with glee!
Cousin Sam's in thousands coming
Year by year to see thy glory,
And he ne'er forgets his roaming, —
Tells abroad thy wondrous story!
VICTORIA!
For 'round thee he's been a-hunting
Cougar, bear, and deer and moose,
Likewise also gone a-fishing.
All his business cares cut loose.
Oak Bay Links, and those of Colwood,
Reached he these by street-car ride;
Boating, bathing, tennis, billiard,
All these pleasures, — more beside!
VICTORIA!
Mild's the clime, and summer not too hot;
'Tis minus Zero of the prairie;
Come and visit this blest spot,
Come yourself and bring dear Mary.
Come in Winter, come in Spring,
Come in Summer, Autumn too,
And when you come this song you'll sing:
"Victoria the whole year through!"
VICTORIA!
The Dusty Bookcase:A Journey Through Canada'sForgotten, Neglected, and Suppressed Writing
George Brown, thou man of renown,Though I've seen it described as such, Brown's death was not a political assassination. What happened was this: On 25 March 1880, George Bennett, a drunk and disgruntled former employee, walked into the Globe offices demanding a certificate recognizing past service. Brown, who did not know his visitor, suggested he see the foreman. Bennett pulled out a gun. One presumes he meant to shoot his former employer in the chest or head, but Brown pushed down his assailant's arm. The bullet entered the editor's right thigh.
Confederation you did crown;
You now are all free from the strife
The wrangle and jangle of political life.
Poor George Brown is gone at last,No more wrangle and jangle of political life.
O'er his wound could not surpass;
His politics we don't mind a bit,
Knowing well he died with grit.
Politics with man are no disgrace,
When kept in their proper place;
The best politics ever man possessed
Are truth, honesty, and his mind at rest.
A party man may act civil;
He cannot please God and the devil.
In this poem you may well understand,
No happiness for a party man;
If he wants to enjoy a happy mind.
He must live in peace with all mankind.
I give it to all in my straightforward way—
As the motto of your poet, James Gay.
When on this earth George done his best,
I hope he now has found his rest.
"The Late Hon. George Brown" James L. Weston Canadian Illustrated News, 15 May 1880 |