A New Voice for a New Age

 A Request

When I am dead
I would that ye make my bed
On that low-lying, windy waste by the sea,
Where the silvery grasses rustle and lisp;
There, where the crisp
Foam-flakes shall fly over me,
And murmurs creep
From the ancient heart of the deep,
Lulling me ever, I shall most sweetly sleep.
While the eerie sea-folk croon
On the long dim shore by the light of a waning moon.

I shall not hear
Clamor of young life anear,
Voices of gladness to stir an unrest;
Only the wandering mists of the sea
Shall companion me;
Only the wind in its quest
Shall come where I lie,
Or the rain from the brooding sky
And never a dream of the earth
Shall break on my slumber with lure of an out-lived mirth.

L.M.M.

A Confederation Like No Other

The Canada I know shines in a different light,

Its people, its nature, its colours are a spectacular sight.

To the world traveler, this country is a delight,

To an ardent adventurer, an image conjuring might.

To some Canada is an idea, a vision, an inalienable right,

For most it is a fleeting dream, enjoyed only at night.

Canada’s identity is shrouded in a future so bright,

An evolving destiny only its people can invite.

My country, my home, my expression on earth,

It is our gift to the world in this time of rebirth.