George Frederick Cameron (1854-1885)

Text from A Century of Canadian Sonnets.

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O crimson-hearted, flower-producing June--
Dear month of love, and laughter, and light song!
Wherein our mother brings her choral throng
To hymn the hymns that sweetest are in tune:
Wherein all gaily goes gave soul of wrong
That takes to bed quite blinded by the light
Of that sweet, sober, gentle queen of night
That rules the tides of earth and men--the moon;
I love you! for it was beneath your skies
I first looked Love into her starry eyes;
I love you! for beneath your dome of blue
I heard her answer--"And I love you too!"
I hate you!--'mid your flowers it was my lot
To hear those same lips say--"I love you not!"


Wisdom immortal from immortal Jove
Shadows more beauty with her virgin brows
Than is between the virgin breasts of Love
Who makes at will and breaks her random vows,
And hath a name all earthly names above:
The noblest are her offspring; she controls
The time and seasons--yea, all things that are--
The heads and hands of men, their hearts and souls,
And all that moves upon our mother star,
And all that pauses 'twixt the peaceful poles.
Nor is she dark and distant, coy and cold--
But all in all to all who seek her shrine
In utter truth, like to that king of old
Who wooed and won--yet by no right divine.


Anticipation is the oil that feeds
The flame of life. It is the Siren fair
That sings at twilight in the hollow reeds,
And drowns the moaning discord of despair.
Nay, now in darkest night it comes to me,--
It dulls the edge of every present care:
Blots from the tablets of the memory
What hath been ill, or is, inscribing there
In golden letters that which yet may be
Of earth's good things my individual share.
And should the days be drearier in age,
And disappointment part of mine estate,
With fortune I shall not a warfare wage,
But sing my song as now,--as now anticipate.