Dryden and Pope

Of our Laureate we now do sing-
His youthful muse had daring wing,
He then despised Baronhood,
And sang 'twas noble to be good.
None sang like him of knights of old,
He England's glory did uphold,
In wondrous song he hath arrayed.
Glorious charge of light brigade.
And he hath the people's benison.
Greatest of living poets, Tennyson.

Genius of Dryden and of Pope,
Both did take a mighty scope ;
The first he Virgil did translate,
The second showed us Troy's fate.
On English themes they loved to sing,
And high their muses flight did wing.

poem by James McIntyre
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Lorne and Louise

Lines written on the arrival of Governor Lorne and the Princess Louise in Canada.

The tidings now all hearts do please
That she has landed safe-Louise,
Victoria's beloved daughter
Who boldly has crossed the water.
For Royal Princess doth adorn
The title of the Lord of Lorne,
For this union it doth join
Campbell with Royal Stuart line.
Lorne will be Duke of broad Argyle
And the lord of many an isle.
When he inherits broad domain
May he strive tennants' hearts to gain.
To us it seems a brighter morn
Hath dawned on us with Governor Lorne.

poem by James McIntyre
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Canadian Thames

Westward it winds past each town,
Growing broader as it flows down.
Onward it glides, never weary,
Meandering so soft and cheery.

The sunbeams on the waters glance,
Skipping about in silvery dance,
From morn till eve the cattle feed
'Neath lofty elms along the mead.

And on its banks, in warrior pride,
The brave Tecumseh fought and died,
Peace and prosperity now reigns
Along the fertile vale of Thames.

Now soon the waters meet and pair
With the wavelets of St. Clair ;
As maids when wed do lose their names,
No longer is it called the Thames.

poem by James McIntyre
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Lines on Tilsonburg

After him who did mills own
This place was called in honor Tilson.
Bright gleaming like a morning star
Is clear waters of the Otter,

And it doth form here a vast pond
Which extends for miles beyond ;
A fortune on town it will shower,
This prodigious water-power.

No other spots to youth appear
Like lovely little lake Lisgear,
And few small towns have fine roadway ,
Lined with brick blocks, like your Broadway.

Elsewhere, the firemen slave like Turks,
But you have got good water works ;
And some do many a mile go
For to see your famous silo.

poem by James McIntyre
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Windmills and Stone Stables

Cows suffered in the days of old
For want of water and from cold,
Now of good water they have fill
For it is pumped by the windmill.

No matter how well cows were fed
They suffered cold in their board shed,
But good stone walls now them enfold,
And they are warm and safe from cold.

Now they do enjoy their fodder,
And repay with their full udder,
If bran slops you on cow bestow
Of milk it will increase the flow.

And in your efforts do not halt
But let them daily lick the salt,
And never let the dogs them chase,
But let them walk at their quiet pace.

poem by James McIntyre
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George Menzies Poems

One day, while passing 'long the road.
On a small book we almost trod;
Its leaves were scattered o'er the ground,
We picked them up, and when we found

The author's name, it did inspire
Us with a very strong desire
To read the little volume through,
For most of it to us was new.

He doth sing of land of heather,
And Canadian scenes together ;
He did adore Niagara's roar
Where mighty flood o'er falls doth pour.

But poet's lives are often brief,
And he lead his full share of grief-
Which to his life did gloom impart ;
But, he bore up with his brave heart.

poem by James McIntyre
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Mrs. Moody

When this country it was woody,
Its great champion, Mrs. Moody,
She showed she had both pluck and push,
In her work, roughing in the bush.

For there all alone she will dwell,
At time McKenzie did rebel,
Outbreak her husband strove to quell --
Her own grand struggles she doth tell.

Round bush life she threw a glory,
Pioneer renowned in story;
But her tale it is more cheering
When she wrote about the clearing.

Her other sister, Mrs. Traill,
Though eighty-six, she doth not fail;
She now is writing of wild flowers
Grown in Canada's woody bowers.

poem by James McIntyre
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Lines on Embro and Zorra

O'er various counties of the north,
When cruel order did go forth
For to destroy many a home
So that the wild deer free might roam,
The men of Sutherland and Ross
The broad Atlantic they did cross.
Each seeking for a fertile farm,
These rolling lands for them had charm.
They ne'er desired again to roam,
Each happy in his woodland home ;
Where middle branch of Thames doth flow
They built the village of Embro,
And it the hill tops now doth crown
Like its grand namesake, Edina town.
And good flour mills you here do find,
And oats, also, they here do grind.

poem by James McIntyre
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Rabbit Story

Our friend, Mr. Romley,
He told the tale homley,
And yet full of fun,
How the Rabbits did run,
In numbers a score,
All around his door.
They were red, black and white,
Their play folks did delight ;
But they got small by degrees,
For the cats did them seise-
All but one big black Rabbit,
He got into the habit
Under ground he would dive-
He long time did survive,
'Till owner, wanting fat pot,
He this great beast then shot.
When police heard the gun,
Full quickly he did run,
In a furious rage ;
But his wrath did as-uage

[...] Read more

poem by James McIntyre
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Little Lake

Sonnet on an incident which occurred on a small Lake in Northern Ontario.

Pleasant memories it awakes,
When musing on our northern lakes ;
For there I saw a charming Reed,
A friend to me in hour of need.
I wished to cross to other shore,
And deftly she did ply the oar,
And o'er the Lake me swiftly bore.
I was plunged in deep despair,
Before I met this charming fair ;
I could not go around by land,
And I felt like shipwrecked on the strand ;
Until fair vision hove in sight
Graceful as a fairy sprite.
May she be blest, is the desire
Of her true friend James McIntyre.

poem by James McIntyre
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