
Roberts also wrote fiction, which was more lucrative than poetry; he became a pioneer in writing stories that avoided the anthropomorphism of other animal stories of the time. He lived for a time in New York City, in Europe, in London, and eventually settled in Toronto. He was knighted in 1935. The following poem is from his 1896 collection, The Book of the Native.
Resurrection
Daffodil, lily, and crocus,
---They stir, they break from the sod,
They are glad of the sun, and they open
---Their golden hearts to God.
They, and the wilding families,—
---Windflower, violet, may,—
They rise from the long, long dark
---To the ecstasy of day.
We, scattering troops and kindreds,
---From out of the stars wind-blown
To this wayside corner of space,
---This world that we call our own,—
We, of the hedge-rows of Time,
---We, too, shall divide the sod,
Emerge to the light, and blossom,
---With our hearts held up to God.
Entry written by D.S. Martin. He is the award-winning author of the poetry collections Poiema (Wipf & Stock) and So The Moon Would Not Be Swallowed (Rubicon Press). They are both available at: www.dsmartin.ca