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On Mount Royal Post by :gouzts Category :Poems Author :Frank Oliver Call Date :October 2011 Read :2543

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On Mount Royal

I climb its sides when the day grows old
And its mighty shadow falls deep and wide,
And over the gleam of the sunset's gold
The darkness creeps like a rising tide;
And higher and higher up rocky height,
Past oaks that are gnarled by the winter's blast,
I climb till a marvellous vision of light
Breaks forth on my wondering sight at last.

Dome and spire of house of prayer,
Convent cloister gloomy and gray,
Street and market and bridge lie there
In the golden gleam of the dying day.
Yet here on the silent mountain crest
There echoes a moan and a smothered roar
From the tide of life in its strange unrest,
As it beats below on a barren shore.

(The end)
Frank Oliver Call's poem: On Mount Royal

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A vision came unto a saint of old Of a fair city by a crystal stream, Its gates of pearl, its streets of shining gold,-- Barbaric splendours of a mystic's dream. There upon floating wings the white-robed throng No man can number chant in endless song; Across the tideless sea no shadow falls To dim the glory of the sapphire walls, Or mar the splendour of the throne-crowned height. Ah love, the mystic's vision wakes to-night, With all its glittering show and kingly pride, No longing

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The snowflakes fell on a mountain peak, Where the rocks were bare and the winds were bleak, And at first they clung to the mountain's breast, But soon they fell from its lofty crest, And stained and soiled was the new-born snow When it reached the valley far down below. But up on the height one drift alone Still firmly clung to the rugged stone, And men in the gloomy vale below Looked up and gazed on the shining snow, And their darkened souls drank in the light From the