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Sheila Graham-Smith's avatar

My mum grew up on a dirt road that ran along a river through deep woods in rural New Brunswick. These were her poets. Especially Bliss Carmen. “My tent stands in a garden/of aster and goldenrod,/ tilled by the rain and sunshine,/ and sown by the hand of God.

So nice that someone has brought them back into the light.

A. Gregory Frankson's avatar

I wonder if there’s a critical examination of Duncan Campbell Scott’s impact beyond writing a few well-received poems in this anthology? Given his notoriety no justice is done for the reader to completely gloss over his professional and political legacy. I find it striking and slightly off-putting that this review completely ignores these realities as if they do not exist.

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