WHAT IS NEW
Dr. Gabriela Sabau
I-5 Co-investigator
School of Science and the Environment, Memorial University of Newfoundland, Grenfell campus
Dr. Ratana Chuenpagdee
Module I Co-lead
Department of Geography, Memorial University of Newfoundland, St. John's campus
Dr. Norm Catto
Co-investigator
Department of Geography, Memorial University of Newfoundland, St. John's campus
Dr. Robert Briggs
Co-investigator
C-CORE, Memorial University of Newfoundland, St. John's campus
Dr. Thomas Puestow
Co-investigator
C-CORE, Memorial University of Newfoundland, St. John's campus
Dr. Roger White
Co-investigator
Department of Geography, Memorial University of Newfoundland, St. John's campus
Dr. William Cheung
Canadian collaborator
NF-UBC Nereus Program, University of British Columbia
Dr. Prateep Nayak
Canadian collaborator
School of Environment, Enterprise and Development, University of Waterloo
Jack Daly
Master's student
Department of Geography, Memorial University of Newfoundland, St. John's campus
Maria Yulmetova
Master's student
Faculty of Engineering and Applied Science, Memorial University of Newfoundland, St. John's campus
Siva Prasad
Post-doctoral fellow
Department of Mathematics and Statistics, Memorial University of Newfoundland, St. John's campus


Songs & Poems

Edwin John Pratt (1882-1964) was born in Western Bay, Conception Bay. After leaving the province in 1907 to attend the University of Toronto, he published his first volume of poetry, Newfoundland Verse, in 1923
Here the tides flow,
And here they ebb;
Not with that dull, unsinewed tread of waters
Held under bonds to move
Around unpeopled shores—
Moon-driven through a timeless circuit
Of invasion and retreat;
But with a lusty stroke of life
Pounding at stubborn gates,
That they might run
Within the sluices of men’s hearts,
Leap under throb of pulse and nerve,
And teach the sea’s strong voice
To learn the harmonies of new floods,
The peal of cataract,
And the soft wash of currents
Against resilient banks,
Or the broken rhythms from old chords
Along dark passages
That once were pathways of authentic fires.
Red is the sea-kelp on the beach,
Red as the heart’s blood,
Nor is there power in tide or sun
To bleach its stain.
It lies there piled thick
Above the gulch-line.
It is rooted in the joints of rocks,
It is tangled around a spar,
It covers a broken rudder,
It is red as the heart’s blood,
And salt as tears.
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