Pauline Johnson

"August is laughing across the sky, Laughing, while paddle, canoe and I Drift, drift, Where the hills uplift On either side of the current swift."

"The pine trees whispering, the heron's cry, The plover's passing wing, his lullaby."

"Sleep, with her tender balm, her touch so kind,  Has passed me by; Afar I see her vesture, velvet-lined,  Float silently; O! Sleep, my tired eyes had need of thee! Is thy sweet kiss not meant to-night for me?"