Lineson Thorold
McCready the great Irish Tragedian said, the view from Thorold
was the finest in America.
Thorold is famous for its mills,
And the grand view from off its hills-
A view so charming and extended,
Natures beauties sweetly blended.
Poetic thoughts it doth awake
To view Ontario's broad Lake,
And husbandmen have their reward in
Fruits of this provincial garden.
For from the hill you see below
Gardens, where choice fruits do grow,
The landscape all within your reach
Doth both produce the grape and peach.
McCready said, in the New World
The finest view was from Thorold.
You see St. Catharine's charming town
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poem by James McIntyre
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Elf Shot
A lad, brought up in Highland vale,
Who did believe each fairy tale
Which his granney oft to him told,
And of witches and of warlocks bold,
And he himself would often pore
For hours reading wizard lore.
One night his mother to the town
In a hurry sent him down,
So o'er his poney he did stride,
And to the town did fearful ride;
He thought that demons they would rush
On him from every rock and bush,
And as he went through the quarry
It did great increase his flurry ;
He felt that fiends with fiercest hate
Would surely there seal fast his fate.
But town he reached, and neath his vest
He parcel pressed beneath his vest ;
The poney now he mounts once more
For to pass quarry as before,
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poem by James McIntyre
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The London Flood
From the long, continuous rains,
O'erflowing were the swamps and drains,
For each day had its heavy shower,
Torrents fell for many an hour.
At London, where two branches join,
It seem'd two furies did combine
For to spread far both death and woe,
With their wild, raging overflow.
E'en houses did on waters float
As though each had been built for boat,
And where was health, and joy and bloom
Soon naught but inmates for the tomb;
Flood o'erflowed both vale and ridges
And swept railroads, dams and bridges.
A mother climbed in tree to save
Her infant from a watery grave,
But on the house you saw its blood,
Where it was crushed 'gaist tree by flood.
Where cottages 'mong gardens stood
'Tis covered o'er with vile drift wood,
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poem by James McIntyre
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London West
While the Thames meanders gently through the green pasture
fields of Ingersoll, a pleasing picture to behold, how dif-
ferent, alas, is the feeling in London West, where the
river is an object of dread and terror, neither pleasing to
the eye or nostrils. As we have been living for the last
quarter of a century on the edge of one of the tributary
streams of the Thames and were once o'erwhelmed with
ruin dire by a number of the dams giving way, we can
sympathise with them. They are now built strong and
substantial, and the ponds are an ornament to the town,
as well as a source of wealth. The Caledonian Society,
of Ingersoll, donated $50 to the flood sufferers.
The citizens of London West
Their patience oft is put to test
When they behold the various dams
Do cause the floods and the ice jams.
'Tis true that fiercer rages floods
Since country it was stript of woods,
Acid river it doth broader spread
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poem by James McIntyre
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The Brothers Stuart
In the year 1843 we were, though but a boy, at a fair at
Cawdor Castle. Readers of Shakespeare's Macbeth will
have often found Cawdor mentioned therein; the village
of Cawdor is but a few miles from Culloden Moor While
we were there the old Highland people, in their broken
English, were declaring that the Stuarts were collecting
arms, and that the Clans were going to join them ; those
gentlemen wore the Highland garb, and were highly re-
spected. They had lived in Cawdor for some years ; one
of them built a Hermitage of wicker-work on high bank
of river, which remains entire and in good repair to the
present day.
Long 'ere Her Majesty the Queen
Had visited of Aberdeen,
'Ere she in castle did abide
'Mong glorious hills on the Dee side,
Or visited each Highland glen
Or won the hearts of Highlandmen,
There oft was seen in Highland dress
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poem by James McIntyre
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Lines on Niagaras [sic] Charms and Death
Gazing on rapid's mighty sea,
Struggling fiercely to be free,
But drawn downward in its course
By gravitation's wonderous force,
O'er those perpendicular walls,
Hurled 'mong mighty rocks it falls,
Causing the earth tothrob and shake
Like to the termor of earthquake ;
Thus the world's greatest wonder
Reverberates likes peals of thunder.
Reshrined with mist and beauteous glow
Of varied tints of the rainbow,
Most glorious sight the human eye
Hath ever seen, beneath the sky ;
Along these banks none ever trod
But did feel grateful to his God
For lavishing, with bounteous green ;
Plunged by whirlpool's dread commotion,
It becomes a seething ocean
Where furies join in surging dance
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poem by James McIntyre
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Canada Our Home
The following response to ' Canada, our Home,' was given
at a banquet of the Caledonian Society, Ingersoll.
In responding to the sentiment, 'Canada, our Home,'
perhaps it would be appropriate to point out the prominent
and distinguishing characteristics between the land of our
nativity and the land of our adoption. In this Canada of ours
we have no bonny blooming heath, no banks and braes covered
o'er with daisies and gowans, no fragrant hedges, showering
down white spray in the May time, no whin and broom,
prodigal in their gayety of yellow flowers ; no hills
nor glens, where fairies gambol in pleasent and harmless sport ;
no grand ruins of ancient cathedrals and castles, no feathered
songsters like the mavis and blackbird.
Full oft we did enraptured hark
To heavenly song of the sky lark.
But Canada is a young giant in its infancy. With the noblest chain
of lakes in the world on its frontier, and the most magnificent river,
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poem by James McIntyre
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Snake and Potato Bug
A TRUE TALE.
'Can such things be and overcome us like a summer cloud,
without our special wonder, '-SHAKESPEAR.
In a grocery store in Ingersoll our attention was called to a copper-headed
snake wriggling in a glass jar. We noticed a peculiarity about its head, but
soon found out it was a potato bug, which was afraid of being drowned ; and
the only above water being the snake's head and neck, it was fondly clinging
thereto. There being 'no jutty-frieze buttress or coigne of vantage, where it
could make its pendant bed, elsewhere.
Some poets they abroad do roam,
But we find themes are near to home ;
As we do seldom travel far,
This is a song of a glass jar.
Snake of species of the copper,
And on its head there was live hopper,
For we saw that funny sight
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poem by James McIntyre
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Fairy Tale
Babies carried off and changed by fairies. In mid winter of
last winter of 1884, in Burghed, in the North of Scotland,
around great fires, incantations were pronounced to drive
away the evil spirits. The custom has come down from
the time of the Druids.
Where'er you find the Fisher folk
There, under superstitions yoke,
For a strong faith 'mong them prevails.
Of truth of witch and fairy tales.
They think that witch could hurl a shaft
Which would o'erwhelm their fishing craft,
For witches do with Satan truck,
They can give good or bring bad luck ;
Fish women do their children teach
To bait the lines down on the beach ;
Themselves do wade in sea for net
So husband's feet will not get wet,
For the women are barefooted,
And the men are heavy booted.
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poem by James McIntyre
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Gratification
We occasionally get a few gleams of encouragement while struggling through the trials
of life.A number of years ago a person employed by the Dominion Government to give
sketches of the various towns in Canada, and especially to describe the power of the
various streams and the number of streams in each town or neighborhood ; he came to us,
as we had written rhymes on the rivers and creeks. Years afterwards we were informed by
persons who came from Britain, as the book was to encourage emigration,that my name was
the only one they had ever heard of in Ingersoll until they came here.The celebrated
Spaulding, manufacturer and inventor of prepared glue, was in town a few days ago. He
expressed to a gentleman in town that he was gratified with a conversation he had with
me on poetic themes. As there is no natural affinity or adhesion binding glue to poetry,
we might say we discovered that the inventor possessed a refined and cultivated mind
and a fund of American humor.An old lady expressed herself very warmly after reading my
Canadian romance, that it was a true history of herself and husband ; that 35 years ago
they were not worth a dollar,and now they had 500 acres paid for of good land. The
reason why we alluded to this is:-Some have no faith that there is anything worthy of
commemorating in their own country, but consider worthy themes for either song or story
are three thousand miles across the Atlantic.
poem by James McIntyre
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