The Oxford Book of Canadian Verse
A Little SongDuncan Campbell Scott (18621947)
T
Burned soft and high;
A shore-lark fell like a stone to his nest
In the waving rye.
From the dreamy lawn,
The pansies nodded their purple heads,
The poppies began to yawn.
Only his gentle breath;’
But a rose lay strewn in a snowy heap,
For the rose it was only death.
And only one death to die:
Good-morrow, new world! have you nothing to give?
Good-bye, old world—good-bye!