| William Wilfred Campbell, comp. The Oxford Book of Canadian Verse. 1913. | | | | March | | By Isabella Valancy Crawford (1850–1887) |
| | | SHALL Thor with his hammer | |
| Beat on the mountain, | |
| As on an anvil, | |
| A shackle and fetter? | |
| |
| Shall the lame Vulcan | 5 |
| Shout as he swingeth | |
| God-like his hammer, | |
| And forge thee a fetter? | |
| |
| Shall Jove, the Thunderer, | |
| Twine his swift lightnings | 10 |
| With his loud thunders, | |
| And forge thee a shackle? | |
| |
| ‘No!’ shouts the Titan, | |
| The young lion-throated; | |
| ‘Thor, Vulcan, or Jove | 15 |
| Cannot shackle and bind me.’ | |
| |
| Tell what will bind thee, | |
| Thou young world-shaker. | |
| Up vault our oceans, | |
| Down fall our forests. | 20 |
| |
| Ship masts and pillars | |
| Stagger and tremble, | |
| Like reeds by the margins | |
| Of swift running waters. | |
| |
| Men’s hearts at thy roaring | 25 |
| Quiver like harebells | |
| Smitten by hailstones, | |
| Smitten and shaken. | |
| |
| ‘O sages and wise men! | |
| O bird-hearted tremblers! | 30 |
| Come, I will show ye | |
| A shackle to bind me. | |
| |
| I, the lion-throated, | |
| The shaker of mountains! | |
| I, the invincible, | 35 |
| Lasher of oceans! | |
| |
| Past the horizon, | |
| Its ring of pale azure | |
| Past the horizon, | |
| Where scurry the white clouds, | 40 |
| |
| There are buds and small flowers— | |
| Flowers like snowflakes, | |
| Blossoms like raindrops, | |
| So small and tremulous. | |
| |
| These in a fetter | 45 |
| Shall shackle and bind me, | |
| Shall weigh down my shouting | |
| With their delicate perfume!’ | |
| |
| But who this frail fetter | |
| Shall forge on an anvil, | 50 |
| With hammer of feather | |
| And anvil of velvet? | |
| |
| ‘Past the horizon | |
| In the palm of a valley, | |
| Her feet in the grasses, | 55 |
| There is a maiden. | |
| |
| She smiles on the flowers, | |
| They widen and redden; | |
| She weeps on the flowers, | |
| They grow up and kiss her. | 60 |
| |
| She breathes in their bosoms, | |
| They breathe back in odours; | |
| Inarticulate homage, | |
| Dumb adoration. | |
| |
| She shall wreathe them in shackles, | 65 |
| Shall weave them in fetters; | |
| In chains shall she braid them, | |
| And me shall she fetter. | |
| |
| I, the invincible; | |
| March, the earth-shaker; | 70 |
| March, the sea-lifter; | |
| March, the sky-render; | |
| |
| March, the lion-throated. | |
| April, the weaver | |
| Of delicate blossoms, | 75 |
| And moulder of red buds— | |
| |
| Shall at the horizon, | |
| Its ring of pale azure, | |
| Its scurry of white clouds, | |
| Meet in the sunlight.’ | 80 | | | |
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