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Thro’ limpid currents stealing up.

And rounding to the pearly cup.

Thou dost desire,

With all thy trembling heart of sinless fire,

But to be filled

With dew distilled

From clear, fond skies that in their gloom

Hold, floating high, thy sister moon,

Pale chalice of a sweet perfume,

Whiter-breasted than a dove,

To thee the dew is—love!

When, in 1884, Isabella Valancy Crawford’s unpretentious little volume of poems appeared, it won high praise from the critics of the London Athenaeum, The Spectator, The Graphic, and The Illustrated London News. They all noted that she had an excess of riches in fancy and in imagination, and a poetic style of her own which was distinguished both by beauty and exquisite artistry. In 1905 her poems were collected and edited by John W. Garvin, B.A., and published with a critical Introduction by Miss Ethelwyn Wetherald. This remains the definitive edition of the poetry of Isabella Valancy Crawford, whom Miss Wetherald describes as ‘a brilliant and fadeless figure in the annals of Canadian literary history.’