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Las diagrammes suivants illustrant la m^thode. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 I A WOMAirS EXILL The winter's dull unfathooied gray, 80 near and wide against my door, Beats in lull of hollow day; There breaks not here across my floor ijne home-bird sbadow.tbrough tbe door There stirs no call, there leads no way. Once more in exile ere I die, O iSpirit-Motber, Aoadie, Stretch hands and take me Dack to thee, When April comes and night goes by. When snows melt down in Acadie To swift blue runnels filled with sky. There bring me boue though years be lon^, When some still hour,unheard.at dawn, The sparrows oome, "uxd Joy has gone Across the morning, far along My river reaches in the dawn, To pierce the golden Spring with song I 1 do remembor how the sun In that north land when May was there. Would drench the noon with leisure, where Tbe great calm river-floods did run, Strewn by the golden willows there With subtile g3rms of Spring begun. And I remember how we came All day along cbe stream with calls Of shy new-comers, till suntall's Untroubled quiet heard my name, Under the low glad swallow-calis, Divide the gradual dusk with flame. I v^aary homeward far o'er sea; For there a little 1 would dream Beside my quiet willow stream, — Once more at evening, it may be, To hear his voicp across my dream Unbar the golden Spring for me. THROUGH THE TWILIGHT. The red vines bar my window way ; The Autumn sleeps beside his fire, For he has sent 1 his fleet-foot day A year's march back to bring to me One face whose smile is my desire, — Its light my star. Surely you will come near and speak. This calm of death from tbe day to sever I And so 1 aball draw down your cheek Cloea to my face— So close ! — and know God's hand between our bands forever Will set no bar. Before the dusk falls— even now I know your step along the gravel. And catch your quiet poise of brow. And wait so long till you turn the latch 1 Is the way so bard you had to travel ? Is tbe land so far 7 The dai I has shut your eyes from mine, But ill this hush of brooding weather A gleam on twilight's gathering line Has rivpn the barriers of dream : Soul of my soul, we are together As the angels are ! LOW TIDE ON GRAND-PRE. The sun goe<) down, and over all These barren reaches by the tide Such unelusive glories fall, I almost dream they yet will bide Until the coming of the tide. And yet I know that not for ua, Rv any ecstasy of dream, Ue lingers to keep luminous A little whilo the grievous stream, Which frets, uncomforted of dream, — A grievous ntream, that to and fro Athrough the fields of Acadie Goes wandering, as if to know Why one beloved face should be So long from home and Acadie I year.or.liiea aao He spilled the wine 1 Upon tlie floor,— In beads on the brim Waa glitter of brine, — Then, out at the door In a childuh whim I Out of the storm, ' In the flickering light, A broken glass Lies on our warm Hearthst<>*>e to-night. While , uadowi pass Out of tbe storm. Friends, let him rest In midnight now. Desire has gone On the weary quest With aching brow : Until the dawn, Friends, let bim rest. In sorrow and shame For the craven heart In manhood's breast With valor'd name, Let him depart Unto his rest la sorrow and shame. In after years God, who bestows Or withholds the valor, Shall wipe all tears— Haply, who knows 7 — From his face's pallor In after years. He could not learn To fight with his peers In sturdier fashion ; I>^t htm return Through the night with tears, Stung with the passion He could not learn. All bountiful, calm. Where tba great stars burn. And Spring bloom smothers The night with balm, Let him return To the silent Mother's All bountiful calm. Friends, let him rest In midnight now. Desire has gone On the weary quest With aching brow : Until the dawn Friends, let him rest. THE WRAITH of' THE RED SWAN. Why tarries the flash of his blade? At morning he sailed from meT*" From the depth of our high beech glade , To the surge and the sea; I followed the gleam of his blade. The cherries were flowering white. And the Nashwaak Islands flooded. When the long ked Swan took flight ; On a wind she scudded With her gunwale buried fiom sight, Till her sail drew down out of sight. He shouted " A northward track, Before the swallows have flown !" And now the cherries are black, And the clover is brown, And the Red Swan comes not back. The streem-bends, hidden and shy, With tneir harvest of lilies are strewn; The gravel bars are all dry And warm in the noon, Where the rnpids go swirling by,— Go singing and rippling by. Through many an evening gone, Where the roses drank the breoie. When the pale slow moon outshone Through the slanting trees, I dreamed of the long Ked Swan. How I should know that one e wine oor, — he brim F brine, — it the door whim I orm, ' iog light, ;laag rarm tonight, Iowa pass orm. lim rent now. gone quest brow: awn, im rest. I shame ID heart d's breast lame, irt )St i shame. tows da the valor, 1 tears— mows ? — ice's pallor s. t learn his peers ' fashion ; irn night with tears, 1 the passion b learn. , calm, ;reat stars burn, g bloom smothers tb balm, irn Dt Mother's calm. bim rest now. gone y quest ; brow : dawn tiim rest. thTred swan. ah of his blade? sailed from meT*" iur high beech glade , ge and the sea; m of his blade. Sowering white, raak laUnds flooded, I Swan took ilight f she scudded buried fiom sight, lown out oi sight. rthward track, lUows have flown !" ■iea are black, lover is brown, comGs not back. hidden and shy, krvest of lilies are ) all dry the noon, ^o Bwirling by,— pling by. evening gone, es drank the breoie, w moon outshone lanting trees, ong Ked Swan. !f that one WhefV the rake of her ganwale dippMl At the Hpent black waves ran tdt, In a hand tor helm there was gripped The sheen of a haft, Which sang in the furrows it ripped. Then I knew and wjts glad, for what foam Could theiush of her speed o'er whelm If Louis And his Whitehaulm Wt-re Steersinan and h<>lm, When the long It»d Swan drave home, Whf n the long Red Swan drave home T Yet pver the sweeping mist Was a veil to his face from me. Though yesrninf! 1 well half ^ist What his look might be From the carven bend of his wrist. Then a break, and the cloud was gone. And there was his set keen face Afire with smouldrine dawn In the joy of her race, In the flight ot the long Ked Swan, In the flight of the long Ked Swan; Though drenched in the spray-drift hoar. As of old it was ruddy and warm Through the black hair, grizxied and frore, Whipped out en the storm; Then "Louis I" I launched on the roar. O'er night and thH brawl of the stream The hail of uiy cry lew on ; He turned with a f>milH supreme. And the long Red Swan Grew dim as the wraith of a dream, As the blown white wraith ot a dream. Look! Burnished and blue, what a sweep Of river outwinds in the sun ; What miles of shircmering deep Wher3 the hills grow one With their shadow of summer and sleep I I gate from the cedar shade Day long, high over the beach, And never a ripple is laid To the long blue reach. Where faded the gleam of that blade. The far gold flash of his blade. I follow and dream and recall. Forget and remember and dream; When the interval grass waves tall, I move in the gleam Where his blade-beats glitter and fall. Yet never my dream gets c'oar Of the whispering bodeful spell The aspen shudders to hear, Yet hurries to tell — How the long Red Swan draws near, How the long Red Swan draws near. Outfleeing the traoea of fli j^t. In the valley of morrow for shelter^ It beats at the Koal of the sun; Almost the veil of remembrance As a weaving of shade is undone. 0<'ten and often at evening The woodland curtain sTfings; I call you, then — it has fallen t Only the wood^brush sings. Over the floor of midnight Wanders a matchless rhyme, Blown of the wind asunder — Out from the echo of time. IN LYRIC SEASON. The lyric April time is forth With lyric mornings, frost and sun ; From leaguers vast of night undone Auroral mild new stars are born. And ever at the year's return, Along the valleys gray with rime, T'hou leadest as of old, where time Can nought but follow to thy sway. The trail is far through leagues of Spring And long the quest to the white core Of harvest quiet, yet once more I gird me to the old unrest. I know I shall not ever meet Thy calm regard across the yeaf, And yet I know thou wilt draw near, Nor stir the hour asleep on guard Beside the orchard, when ethwart The dusk, a meteor's gleam unbars God's lyric of the April stars Above the autumn hills of dream. IN APPLE TIME. SHELLEY. One heart of all the hearts of men. Tameless nor free, Plunged for a moment in the fire Of old regret and young desire, A meteor rushed through air, and thMi — What eyes can see 7 O rebel captive, fallen wul, Selfstrcng and proud. Throbbing to lift against the stars An angel voice — whose frenay mars And fr'its the song which thou wouldbt roll Aloft aloud f To thee was given half to mould That heart of thine (Knowing all passion and the pain Of man's imperious disdain) Into a song whose splendor told The dawn divine. It held the rapture of the hilla Deep in its core ; The purple shadows of the ocean Moved it to supreme emotion^ lire harvest of those barren nils Was in its store. Thine was a love that strives and calls, Outcast from home, Burning to free the soul of man With some new life : bow strange, a baa Should set thy sleep beneath the walk Of changelpjs Rrne I More soft, I deem, from spring to springy Thy sleep would be. Where this far westera headland lies Beneath these matchless a«ure skiee, Under thee bearing beat and swin^ The eternal sea. A bay so beauteous islanded — A sea so stilled — You well might dream the world new; And i^me tiair day's Italian blue, Unsoiled oi all the ages dead. Should be fulfilled. Where all the livelong day and night A music stirs. The summer wind should find thy home^ And fall in lulls and cease to roam : A covert resting, warm and bright, Among the firs. An ageless forest dell, which knows Nor grief nor fear. Across whose green red-berried floor Fresh sprmg shall come and winter hoer^ With keen delight and rapt repose Each year by year. And there the thrushes, calm, suprenM, Forever reign. Whose glorious kingly golden thioaia Hold but a few remembered notes; Yet in their sons is blent do dream Or tinge of pain I Frpe'3 hland, N. Ji. FIRST CROAK. Northward, crow. Croak and fly I Tell her I liOng to go,— Goes wandering, as if to know Why one beloved face should be 80 long Irom home an i Acadie I Waa it a year or lives ago We took I he graaaeB in our haoda, \nd caujkiht the summer flying low Over tlie waving meadow lands, And held it there between our hando ? The while the river at our feet — A drowsy mland meadow stream — At set of sun the afcerbeat Made running gold, and in the gleam We freed our birch upon the stream. There down along the elms at dusk We lifted dripping blad» to drift, Throu(2h twilight scented fine like musk, Where night and gloom awhile uplift, Nor sunder soul and soul adrift. And that we took into our banda— Spirit of life or subtler thing- Breathed on ua there, and loosed the bands Of death, and taught us, whispering, The secrv^i of soiue wonder-thing. Then all your face grew light, and seemed To hold the shadow of the sun ; The evening faltere