“The Progress of Time,” by Elizabeth Donaldson

Donaldson, Elizabeth. “The Progress of Time.” Canadian Poetry Magazine 2.4 (1938): 34.

Another fugitive poem by Elizabeth Donaldson! I will keep looking for more…

The Progress of Time

Nor scroll, nor calendar has marked the reign
Of aeons, through that pageantry of time
When primal chaos staged its pantomime,
Moulding new worlds, storming the solar plain;
When woven through the universe, a chain
Bound force and matter in a law sublime;
Then like an ode set to majestic rhyme
The march of evolution found refrain.

From nebula to planet, change on change;
The dateless records marked their ordered plan.
Then man, ephemeral, his reign began;
His life a cosmic instant, his decree
The passing sequence of a drama strange,
Where birth and death vie for supremacy.

“Symphony,” by Audrey St. Denys Wood

Wood, Audrey St. Denys. “Symphony.” Canadian Poetry Magazine 1.1 (1936): 19-20.

I have searched, but found no biographical information about this author, and only a few poems…

Symphony

Rhythm
In the crisp, staccato tap
Of silver points of rain on coloured roofs;
In the long, lingering lines of vapour
Twining about the valley floor
After the fog has slipped away,
A lean grey wolf,
To crouch beneath the hill
And wait the coming night.

Rhythm
In the blue-etched tracery of trees—
November trees,
Against the granite sky;
In the thundering crash of the warrior waves
On the gallant rock,
And the rustling sibilant sound
Of their vanquished sigh.

Rhythm
In the shrill, ceaseless hum
Of the frogs, on a perfumed night,
When the moon is away
And a gay confetti of stars
Swirl through the velvet sky
In a pattern of light.

“The Old Mirror,” by Elizabeth Donaldson

Donaldson, Elizabeth. “The Old Mirror.” Canadian Poetry Magazine 1.2 (1936): 39.

It is likely that this is the same poem (“Old Mirror”) that Donaldson published in Canadian Bookman 17.3 (1935), which we have a reference to. I am waiting for the volume to arrive through the wonderful system of inter-library loans… It will be interesting to see how—if—the poem has been altered in the year between printings.

The Old Mirror

To-day across the argent of its face
A shining vision, transient in its flight
Peered through the crystal with unerring sight,
And in the tenure of a golden space
Enwrapped my soul within its warm embrace,
Then did I see and sense in sheer delight
Familiar forms and faces, grave and bright,
Portrayed anew within this cloistered place.

And thus I thought, if light can pass and sound
Uncircumscribed across an ether sea,
So in this unseen universe may be
The spirit forms of those we cherished here,
For when our hearts with yearning grow profound
The presence of their love draws strangely near.

“February,” by Agnes Ethelwyn Wetherald

Wetherald, Ethelwyn. “February.” A Century of Canadian Sonnets. Ed. Lawrence J. Burpee. Toronto: Musson, 1910. 8.

This was not the first printing of this poem; Burpee’s text is a collection mostly of already-published poetry. Still, even the reprinted poetry of the time is obscure to readers today, so hopefully you will enjoy this.

February

O Master-Builder, blustering as you go
About your giant work, transforming all
The empty woods into a glittering hall,
And making lilac lanes and footpaths grow
As hard as iron under stubborn snow,
Though every fence stand forth a marble wall,
And windy hollows drift that shall your might o’erthrow.
Build high your white and dazzling palaces,
Strengthen your bridges, fortify your towers,
Storm with a loud and portentous lip;
And April with a fragmentary breeze,
And half a score of gentle, golden hours,
Shall leave no trace of your stern workmanship.

“The Winter Firmament,” by Elizabeth Donaldson

Donaldson, Elizabeth. “The Winter Firmament.” Journal of the Royal Astronomical Society of Canada 29 (1935): 4.

This author is a bit of an enigma. We know that some of her poetry is mixed in with other clippings in Dorothy Choate Herriman’s papers at Trent University; we know that her relatives have a stash of unpublished poems, but are unsure which Elizabeth Donaldson in their family history was the poet; we know that she lived at one point at 529 Hillsdale Avenue East, in Toronto; we know that she contributed to the Toronto Star, Canadian Poetry Magazine, Canadian Bookman, and this poem to the Journal of the Royal Astronomical Society of Canada… but still, we can’t discover who she really was…

The Winter Firmament

“How They Died at Thansi,” by Louisa Annie Murray

Murray, Miss. “How They Died at Thansi.” Selections from Canadian Poets: With Occasional Critical and Biographical Notes, and an Introductory Essay on Canadian Poetry. Ed. Edward Hartley Dewart. [Montreal], 1864. 167-70.

Edward Hartley Dewart has included with this poem both a short biographical item and an explanation of the military conflict that gave rise to the poem.  For a more comprehensive biography of Miss Murray, see “Murray, Louisa Annie” in the Dictionary of Canadian Biography online.

About the author

About the “insurrection” at Thansi

“How They Died at Thansi”

“Her Portrait,” by Jean Blewett

Blewett, Jean. “Her Portrait.” “Canadian Poetry.” By John A. Cooper. National Review 29 (1897): 378.

This poem was reprinted in an article written by John A. Cooper, editor of the Canadian Magazine, in the National Review (New York and London) 1897.  Mr. Cooper “confine[s him]self to setting and answering two questions: ‘Should Canada be expected to have a poetry distinctively her own?’ and ‘What is the nature of Canadian Poetry?'” (364).

The article includes a few of the well-known female poets of the time, namely Mary Jane Katzman Lawson, Sarah Ann Curzon, Jean Blewett, Susan Frances Harrison, E. Pauline Johnson, Elizabeth Susan MacLeod, and Agnes Maule Machar.

In preface to the following poem, Mr. Cooper comments that Jean Blewett’s poetry “lacks depth and finish sometimes, but is always genuine.” I suppose we should be grateful that in the patriarchal 1890s, any women made it into his article, presenting as it purports to do, the best of Canadian poetry to the more sophisticated populations of New York and London?

Her Portrait

A little child she stood that far-off day,
When Love, the master-painter, took his brush,
And on the walls of mem’ry dull and grey
Traced tender eyes, wide brow, and changing blush,
The gladness, and the youth, the bending head
All covered over with its curls of gold,
The dimpled arms, the two hands filled with bread,
To feed the little sparrows brown and bold
That fluttered to her feet. It hangs there still,
Just as ’twas painted on that far-off day,
Nor faded in the blush upon the cheek,
The sweet lips hold their smiling and can thrill;
And still, the eyes, so tender and so meek,
Light up the walls of mem’ry dull and grey.

“Springtime,” by Margaret Madden

Madden, Margaret. “Springtime.” Creative Young Canada: Collection of Verse, Drawings and Musical Compositions by Young Canadians from Seven to Twenty Years of Age. Ed. Aletta E. Marty. Foreward “Agnes Delamoure” (Nancy Durham). Toronto: Dent, 1928. 59.

“Springtime,” by 13-year-old Margaret Madden, was first published in the “Circle of Young Canada” section of the Toronto Globe between 1918 and 1928. The illustration is by Margaret Cappelin, also 13 years old. “Circle of Young Canada” was an introductory venue for a number of well-known poets such as Mona Gould, Margaret Avison, and Marjorie Pickthall.

“Throw Back?” by Mona Gould

Gould, Mona. “Throw Back?” Outside the Box: The Life and Legacy of Writer Mona Gould, The Grandmother I Thought I Knew. By Maria Meindl. Montreal & Kingston: McGill-Queen’s UP, 2011. 62-63.

This poem has not been previously published. Mona Gould’s granddaughter-biographer has reprinted it from notes found in the Mona Gould Papers at Thomas Fisher Rare Book Room, University of Toronto Library. Meindl undertook the monumental task of organizing her grandmother’s papers for the library, and ultimately—and fortunately for us—produced her excellent biography.

Throw Back?

It’s really funny I can’t but think
As I loiter over the kitchen sink;
The beautiful places I’d like to go
And the interesting people I’d like to know.
But here I stay and putter and grouse,
The typical wife… in the typical house.

Back in the shades of my family tree
There must have been dozens like dutiful me.

With only a Gypsy here and there
Who wouldn’t stay put; and couldn’t wear
Aprons and s[m]ocks like a uniform
A Gypsy who hungered for strife and storm,
And took to the road when she felt the urge,
Whose mate was a stranger to neat blue serge
Who made her a bed on a bough or two
And slept far sweeter than housed things do.

Did I inherit this will to roam?
Or am I content with this small snug home? …
I would have been happier spared the strain
Of Gypsy blood that fires my brain
So on nights when the wind gets out of hand
I wouldn’t be fey … and stare and stand
Athirst for a miracle wild and sweet
To shake the tradition out of my feet.

And suddenly you’re at the door, my dear
And I’m quite content to stay right here!

“The Loyalists,” by Sarah Ann Curzon

Curzon, Sarah Ann. “The Loyalists.” “Canadian Poetry.” By John A. Cooper. National Review 29 (1897): 375.

This poem was reprinted in an article written by John A. Cooper, editor of the Canadian Magazine, in the National Review (New York and London) 1897.  The article includes a few of the well-known female poets of the time, namely Mary Jane Katzman Lawson, Sarah Ann Curzon, Jean Blewett, Susan Frances Harrison, E. Pauline Johnson, Elizabeth Susan MacLeod, and Agnes Maule Machar.

The Loyalists

O ye, who with your blood and sweat
   Watered the furrows of this land,–
See whereupon a nation’s brow,
   In honour’s front, ye proudly stand!

Who for her pride abased your won,
   And gladly on her altar laid
All bounty of the older world,
   All memories that your glory made.

And to her service bowed your strength,
   Took labour for your shield and crest;
See where upon a nation’s brow,
   Her diadem, ye proudly rest!