| | Poem Title | First Lines | Period | # Lines | # Reads |
| 1: | A Day Redeemed. | I rose, and idly sauntered to the pane, | | 14 | 40 |
| 2: | A Faithful Preacher. | Let no one say of Christ's Church, "Ichabod," | | 14 | 46 |
| 3: | A Late Spring. | Twelve weeks had passed - how slowly! - day by day, | | 14 | 52 |
| 4: | A Library. | As one, who, from an antechamber dim, | | 14 | 59 |
| 5: | A Parody | Once upon a midnight dreary, as I sauntered weak and weary | | 48 | 59 |
| 6: | A Parting. | Has the last farewell been spoken? | | 35 | 47 |
| 7: | A Shallow Stream. | There is a stream to northward, thinly spread | | 14 | 45 |
| 8: | A Summer Evening Scene in Chateauguay | Often, when the sun is sinking | | 48 | 35 |
| 9: | A Walk In Mount Royal Park: Canadian Cities. | Next morning in the Park I took a stroll. | | 54 | 75 |
| 10: | A Wish Rebuked. | If one could have a hundred years to live, | | 14 | 59 |
| 11: | A Wish. | When my time comes to quit this pleasing scene, | | 14 | 63 |
| 12: | Adam. | God made him, like the angels, innocent, | | 14 | 52 |
| 13: | Ah! Happy Was I Yesternight. | Ah! happy was I yesternight | | 40 | 74 |
| 14: | Alone With Nature. | The rain came suddenly, and to the shore | | 14 | 35 |
| 15: | An Aristocrat. | Her fair companions she outshone, | | 14 | 59 |
| 16: | An Autumn Walk. | Adown the track that skirts the shallow stream | | 14 | 60 |
| 17: | An English Toast. | The English soil! - 'tis hallowed ground: | | 32 | 50 |
| 18: | Autumn. | From shy expectancy to burgeoning, | | 14 | 115 |
| 19: | Autumn. | The Year, an aged holy priest, | | 16 | 59 |
| 20: | Before Harvest. | And now 'tis time for Harvest. Hark! and lo, | | 27 | 46 |
| 21: | Burns. | We read his life of poverty and bane, | | 14 | 44 |
| 22: | Canada's Eighteen. | At Paardeberg they fell, | | 32 | 52 |
| 23: | Canada, My Land. | There may be more enchanting climes | | 28 | 54 |
| 24: | Canadian-Born. | Although I'm not unduly proud, | | 72 | 65 |
| 25: | Champlain's First Winter And Spring In Quebec. | September bade the sail of Pontgravé | | 28 | 52 |
| 26: | Could I But Mention But Thy Name; | Could I but strike - a sweeter note | | 18 | 45 |
| 27: | Country Boy's Boast. | And hath he not whereof he needs must sing? | | 27 | 50 |
| 28: | Death Of Sir John. | What news to all alike brings startling sorrow? | | 36 | 43 |
| 29: | Dominion Day, 1900. | Rejoice, O Canada, rejoice, | | 16 | 57 |
| 30: | Dominion Day. | Where the purple-vestured mountains | | 48 | 52 |
| 31: | Dominion Day. | This is the day whereon, confederate | | 9 | 47 |
| 32: | E'en The Fair Orb. | E'en the fair orb on which I gaze | | 12 | 54 |
| 33: | Evening In June. | The purple lilac with the dark green leaves | | 9 | 51 |
| 34: | Forward, Canada! | Northland of our birth and rearing, | | 20 | 55 |
| 35: | Fragment of a Hymn. | God of mercy without measure! | | 16 | 51 |
| 36: | God in Nature. | We see our Father's hand in all around; | | 8 | 41 |
| 37: | H. M. S. "Dreadnought." | Titanic craft of many thousand tons, | | 14 | 62 |
| 38: | Heat. | The fickle sun that had the earth caress'd | | 32 | 50 |
| 39: | Hope. | Oh! why should sorrow wound the heart, | | 28 | 54 |
| 40: | How Many A Man! | How many a man of those I see around | | 14 | 53 |
| 41: | Idleness. | The street was brisk, an animated scene, | | 14 | 55 |
| 42: | In Anticipation Of Autumn. | But now the Summer hastens to its close, | | 54 | 45 |
| 43: | In May. | Now is the time when swallows twitter round, | | 27 | 47 |
| 44: | In The Sugar Bush. | I halted at the margin of the wood, | | 135 | 56 |
| 45: | In Warehouse And Office. | How can the man whose uneventful days, | | 14 | 66 |
| 46: | Invocation To Summer. | Come, Summer, come, nor in the south delay; | | 20 | 48 |
| 47: | Know'st Thou The Land? | Know'st thou the land where the pious and bold | | 86 | 54 |
| 48: | Lines written in an Album. | With beauty and grace that greet the eye, | | 4 | 48 |
| 49: | Lines Written On A Sabbath Morning. | The snow lies pure and peaceful on the ground, | | 12 | 53 |
| 50: | Literature. | Here is a banquet-table of delights, | | 14 | 40 |
| 51: | Milton. | Say not that England ever kingless was: | | 14 | 55 |
| 52: | Montcalm. | Montcalm, calm mount, thou didst not faint nor fail | | 14 | 52 |
| 53: | Montreal. | All clad in rich hiemal robes | | 32 | 41 |
| 54: | Montreal. | By thee, fair City, is Mount Royal based, | | 10 | 47 |
| 55: | Motive | Worthless, the man who works - he knows not why, | | 20 | 44 |
| 56: | My Friends. | Some to and fro for converse flit | | 78 | 44 |
| 57: | My Old Classical Master. | Ever hail'd with delight when my memory strays | | 40 | 42 |
| 58: | My Own Canadian Girl. | The demoiselles of sunny France | | 40 | 31 |
| 59: | My Two Boys. | To some the heavenly Father good | | 20 | 65 |
| 60: | My Valentine. | O Dorothy, sweet Dorothy, | | 24 | 61 |
| 61: | Nothing Too Good For The Irish. | It's the Emerald Isle is the beautiful land: | | 36 | 47 |
| 62: | November Sunshine. | O affluent Sun, unwilling to abate | | 14 | 48 |
| 63: | November. | Sombre November, least belov'd of all | | 14 | 65 |
| 64: | O Canada, Mon Pays, Mes Amours. | O Canada, my country and my love, | | 28 | 51 |
| 65: | O Maple Leaf! | Thee best of leaves I love, | | 49 | 54 |
| 66: | Oh! the Sickening Sensation! | Oh! the sickening sensation! | | 30 | 55 |
| 67: | On Charles Lamb's Sonnet, "Work." | Who first invented work?" asks Elia, he | | 14 | 34 |
| 68: | On Finding A Copy Of Burns's Poems In The House Of An Ontario Farmer. | Large Book, with heavy covers worn and old, | | 40 | 0 |
| 69: | On Moving Into A New House. | Heaven bless this new abode; defend its doors | | 14 | 43 |
| 70: | Our Father. | Father! How precious is that name to me! | | 19 | 44 |
| 71: | Outremont. | Far stretched the landscape, fair, without a flaw, | | 14 | 45 |
| 72: | Paestum. | Paestum, your temples and your streets | | 16 | 51 |
| 73: | Prayer for Submission. | How often, Lord, when 'tis Thy will | | 24 | 37 |
| 74: | Rain For The Farmer. | If gently falls the small, soft, lazy rain, | | 54 | 43 |
| 75: | Recreation. | Give me a cottage embower'd in trees, | | 16 | 45 |
| 76: | Reflections of a Jacobite. | Mourn, mourn, ye spirits of the brave, for glories passed away; | | 12 | 43 |
| 77: | Reflections On A Tree In Autumn. | The tree, with its leaves in luxuriance shading | | 12 | 47 |
| 78: | Rondeau: An April Day. | An April day, when skies are blue, | | 15 | 42 |
| 79: | Scene in the Trojan War. | And when th'opposing ranks in conflict closed, | | 12 | 47 |
| 80: | Scotland: A Jacobite's Lament. | Where are those days, O Caledon, | | 40 | 58 |
| 81: | Separation. | Parted cruelly from thee, | | 16 | 52 |
| 82: | Short Days. | Now is the Sun, erst spendthrift of his rays | | 14 | 57 |
| 83: | Sir Summer. | When conquering Summer stalks the street, | | 56 | 46 |
| 84: | Sol Canadien, Terre Cherie. | O soil Canadian, cherished earth, | | 32 | 56 |
| 85: | Sometimes my Heart by cruel Care Opprest. | Sometimes my heart by cruel care opprest | | 18 | 44 |
| 86: | Sonnet to ---- . | Journeying through a desert, waste and drear, | | 14 | 55 |
| 87: | Sonnet to Asterie. | I was enveloped in black clouds of woe, | | 14 | 50 |
| 88: | Sonnet to Dr. Macvicar. | Stay of the church and pillar of the state! | | 14 | 38 |
| 89: | Sonnet to Shelley. | Divinely strong and beautiful in soul! | | 14 | 42 |
| 90: | St. Lawrence And The Coming Ships. | I cannot loiter on my way, | | 32 | 53 |
| 91: | Study In Solitude. | Tis true, in midst of all, there may arise | | 27 | 51 |
| 92: | Success. | What is success? In mad soul-suicide | | 14 | 61 |
| 93: | Tea's Apologia. | Loved by a host from Noah's days till now, | | 14 | 51 |
| 94: | The Battle Of Chateauguay. | There is a valley where the wheat fields wave | | 54 | 45 |
| 95: | The Beginning Of Winter. | Now are the trees all ruefully bereft | | 14 | 48 |
| 96: | The Coming Of Champlain. | Up the St. Lawrence with well-weather'd sails | | 14 | 57 |
| 97: | The Doctor. | He bent above our darling's bed | | 36 | 59 |
| 98: | The Exclusion Of Asiatics. | Is our renown'd Dominion then so small | | 14 | 61 |
| 99: | The Fever Burns from Morn till Eve. | The fever burns from morn till eve; | | 12 | 54 |
| 100: | The Gold-Miners Of British Columbia. | They come not from the sunny, sunny south, | | 28 | 35 |
| 101: | The House-Hunter. | As one who finds his house no longer fit, | | 14 | 46 |
| 102: | The Ideal Preacher. | It was back in Renfrew County, near the Opeongo line, | | 102 | 48 |
| 103: | The Immigrants. | From lands where old abuses sit entrenched | | 14 | 61 |
| 104: | The Joy Of Creation. | How must have thrilled the great Creator's mind | | 14 | 49 |
| 105: | The Macs. | There's a race, or a part of a race, if you will, | | 36 | 37 |
| 106: | The Montagnais At Tadoussac. | The lodges of the Montagnais were there, | | 14 | 59 |
| 107: | The New Old Story. | Hard by an ancient mansion stood an oak; | | 14 | 34 |
| 108: | The Night. | A tremor, a quiver, | | 32 | 57 |
| 109: | The Noble Woman. | A woman on an empire's throne | | 24 | 65 |
| 110: | The Oath of the French Loyalist. | I swear by the holy Virgin, | | 16 | 37 |
| 111: | The Old And The New. | Scorn not the Old; 'twas sacred in its day, | | 14 | 44 |
| 112: | The Old Scottish Minister. | A man he was of Scottish race, | | 80 | 54 |
| 113: | The Old Year. | The old year is dying, | | 42 | 35 |
| 114: | The Orphan Maid of Glencoe. | I tell a tale of woful tragedy, | | 145 | 49 |
| 115: | The Parson At The Hockey Match. | It's very disagreeable to sit here in the cold, | | 114 | 44 |
| 116: | The People's Response To Heroism. | Our hearts are set on pleasure and on gain. | | 14 | 57 |
| 117: | The Prayer of the Penitent Profligate. | Lord, I am weak and worthless, better fit | | 18 | 37 |
| 118: | The Principal's Ash-Barrel. | In a notable college the story is told | | 18 | 42 |
| 119: | The Quebec Exodus. | Why should we leave the soil our fathers cleared, | | 24 | 86 |
| 120: | The Revolution In Russia. | From Lapland to the land of Tamerlane, | | 14 | 53 |
| 121: | The Roarin' Game. | The roarin' game, the roarin' game, | | 40 | 52 |
| 122: | The Sabbath. | Who, careless, would behold a goodly tree | | 14 | 53 |
| 123: | The Saddest Thought. | Sad is the wane of beauty to the fair, | | 14 | 47 |
| 124: | The Scot. | That no Scotsman is perfect, we freely confess, | | 56 | 58 |
| 125: | The Song of the Summer Cloud. | I am arrayed in light and shade, | | 24 | 44 |
| 126: | The St. Lawrence. | Though like Ulysses, fam'd of old, | | 36 | 47 |
| 127: | The Three Hundredth Anniversary Of Milton's Birth. | Three hundred years have left their telltale rings | | 14 | 52 |
| 128: | The Wheel Of Misfortune. | O m'sieu, doan you hask me ma story, doan hask me how dis was happenn; | | 32 | 48 |
| 129: | The Winter And The Wilderness. | | | 14 | 57 |
| 130: | The Works Of Man And Of Nature. | Man's works grow stale to man: the years destroy | | 14 | 59 |
| 131: | Tim O'Gallagher. | My name is Tim O'Gallagher, - there's Oirish in that same; | | 78 | 38 |
| 132: | To -----. | Fair one! embodiment of Loveliness! | | 9 | 51 |
| 133: | To a Star. | Dreary and dismal and dark | | 20 | 57 |
| 134: | To an Umbrella. | Thou art the belonging blest | | 33 | 48 |
| 135: | To Beauty. | Beauty, beloved of all gentle hearts | | 32 | 52 |
| 136: | To Burns. | Old friend! - I always loved thee; | | 12 | 38 |
| 137: | To my Couch. | When the toils of the day are done, | | 12 | 41 |
| 138: | Tomakewaw, - A Parody. | Give me of your fruit, banana! | | 47 | 43 |
| 139: | Treasured Memories. | The playful way thy wanton hair | | 16 | 34 |
| 140: | Vain Transient World. | Vain transient World, what charms are thine? | | 24 | 36 |
| 141: | Veni, Vidi, Victus sum. | Hither led by fancy's hand, | | 16 | 46 |
| 142: | War-Ships In Port. | The tread of armèd mariners is in our streets to-day, | | 32 | 39 |
| 143: | Wolfe. | Thou need'st no marble monuments to keep | | 14 | 52 |
| 144: | Work. | Not to the Arch-Idler be the honor given | | 14 | 55 |
