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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O'Donohue's Mistress
Of all the fair months, that round the sun
In light-link'd dance their circles run,
Sweet May, shine thou for me;
For still, when thy earliest beams arise,
That youth, who beneath the blue lake lies,
Sweet May, returns to me.
Of all the bright haunts, where daylight leaves
Its lingering smile on golden eves,
Fair lake, thou'rt dearest to me;
For when the last April sun grows dim
Thy Naiads prepare his steed for him
Who dwells, bright lake, in thee.
Of all the proud steeds that ever bore
Young plumed Chiefs on sea or shore,
White Steed, most joy to thee;
Who still, with the first young glance of spring,
From under that glorious lake dost bring
My love, my chief, to me.
While, white as the sail some bark unfurls,
When newly launch'd, thy long mane curls,
Fair Steed, as white and free;
And spirits, from all the lake's deep bowers,
Glide o'er the blue wave scattering flowers,
Around my love and thee.
Of all the sweet deaths that maidens die,
Whose lovers beneath the cold wave lie,
Most sweet that death will be,
Which, under the next May evening's light,
When thou and thy steed are lost to sight,
Dear love, I'll die for thee.
poem by Thomas Moore
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The Seven Sisters
Or, The Solitude Of Binnorie
SEVEN Daughter had Lord Archibald,
All children of one mother:
You could not say in one short day
What love they bore each other.
A garland, of seven lilies, wrought!
Seven sisters that together dwell;
But he, bold Knight as ever fought,
Their Father, took of them no thought,
He loved the wars so well.
Sing, mournfully, oh! mournfully,
The solitude of Binnorie!
Fresh blows the wind, a western wind,
And from the shores of Erin,
Across the wave, a Rover brave
To Binnorie is steering:
Right onward to the Scottish strand
The gallant ship is borne;
The warriors leap upon the land,
And hark! the Leader of the band
Hath blown his bugle horn.
Sing, mournfully, oh! mournfully,
The solitude of Binnorie!
Beside a grotto of their own,
With boughs above them closing,
The Seven are laid, and in the shade
They lie like fawns reposing.
But now, upstarting with affright
At noise of man and steed,
Away they fly to left, to rightÑ
Of your fair household, Father-knight,
Methinks you take small heed!
Sing, mournfully, oh! mournfully,
The solitude of Binnorie!
Away the even fair Campbells fly,
And, over hill and hollow,
With menace proud, and insult loud,
The youthful Rovers follow.
Cried they, 'Your Father loves to roam:
Enough for him to find
The empty house when he comes home;
For us your yellow ringlets comb,
For us be fair and kind!'
Sing, mournfully, oh! mournfully,
The solitude of Binnorie!
Some close behind, some side to side,
Like clouds in stormy weather;
They run, and cry, 'Nay, let us die,
And let us die together.'
A lake was near; the shore was steep;
There never foot had been;
They ran, and with a deperate leap
Together plunged into the deep,
Nor ever more were seen.
Sing, mournfully, oh! mournfully,
The solitude of Binnorie!
The stream that flows out of the lake,
As through the glen it rambles,
Repeats a moan o'er moss and stone,
For those seven lovely Campbells.
Seven little Islands, green and bare,
Have risen from out the deep:
The fishers say, those sisters fair,
By faeries all are buried there,
And there together sleep.
Sing, mournfully, oh! mournfully,
The solitude of Binnorie!
poem by William Wordsworth
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The Fairy
Said Ann to Matilda, 'I wish that we knew
If what we've been reading of fairies be true.
Do you think that the poet himself had a sight of
The fairies he here does so prettily write of?
O what a sweet sight if he really had seen
The graceful Titania, the Fairy-land Queen!
If I had such dreams, I would sleep a whole year;
I would not wish to wake while a fairy was near.-
Now I'll fancy that I in my sleep have been seeing
A fine little delicate lady-like being,
Whose steps and whose motions so light were and airy,
I knew at one glance that she must be a fairy.
Her eyes they were blue, and her fine curling hair
Of the lightest of browns, her complexion more fair
Than I e'er saw a woman's; and then for her height,
I verily think that she measured not quite
Two feet, yet so justly proportioned withal,
I was almost persuaded to think she was tall.
Her voice was the little thin note of a sprite-
There-d'ye think I have made out a fairy aright?
You'll confess, I believe, I've not done it amiss.'
'Pardon me,' said Matilda, 'I find in all this
Fine description, you've only your young sister Mary
Been taking a copy of here for a fairy.'
poem by Charles Lamb
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At A Banquet Given To The Deputation Of The Swedish Riksdag To The Coronation, In Trondhjem, July 17
You chosen men we welcome here
From brothers near.
We welcome you to Olaf's town
That Norway's greatest mem'ries crown,
Where ancient prowess looking down
With searching gaze,
The question puts to sea and strand:
Are men now in the Northern land
Like yesterday's?
'T is well, if on the battlefield
Our 'Yes' is sealed!
'T is well, if now our strength is steeled
To grasp our fathers' sword and shield
And in life's warfare lift and wield
For God and home!
For us they fought; 't is now our call
To raise for them a temple-hall,
Fair freedom's dome.
List to the Northern spirit o'er
Our sea and shore!
Here once high thoughts in word were freed,
In homely song, in homely deed;
And ever shall the selfsame need
That spirit sing:
Heed not things trivial, foreign, new;
Alone th' eternal, Northern, true
Can harvest bring.
O brother-band, this faith so dear
Has brought us here?
The spirit of the North to free,
Our common toil and prayer shall be,
Those greater days again to see,-
As once before,
Of home and trust a message strong
To send the warring world we long
Forevermore.
poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
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On White Brothers
To us it is a pleasing sight,
To see so many here to night;
All listening with so much delight
Unto those worthy men of might
The charming songsters, Brothers White,
poem by James McIntyre
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Nuptial Ode on Canada
Written during the visit of delegates from the Lower Provinces
to negotiate for confederation.
Hail Britannia's noblest daughter,
Who is surrounded by the water
Of many a lake and broad sea,
Land of Beaver and Maple Tree.
Her lofty brow is wreathed with smiles,
For, from the far Atlantic isles
In pomp, have come their delegates,
All seeking to unite their fates
With Canada, great Northern Queen.
And now, throughout the land, is seen
High festival and stately dance,
Triumphant nuptials to advance.
And soon shall Red River valley
And distant Vancouver, rally
To form this empire gigantic,
From Pacific to Atlantic.
poem by James McIntyre
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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
And steamers sailing up and down.
And you can see, on a clear day,
All along Toronto Bay;
And you clearly see the haze
Where Niagara doth amaze.
And glance where Grimsby's gardens yield,
Or view Beamsvill's fruitful field ;
Then this thought yon can advance,
This is Canada's sunny France.
You see Niagara's ancient town *
Though,it has lost its old renown ;
And you have a splendid view
Of boats on old canal and new.
* Niagara, once the capital and business centre of Upper Canada, and also
an important fortress. It is located at the mouth of the Niagara river.
poem by James McIntyre
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Port Stanley
Lines composed on an excursion to port Stanley, 1883.
In winter time 'tis sad and dreary
For to gaze on stormy Erie,
But here in summer time this port
It is fashionable resort,
For then it is always cheery
For to gaze upon lake Erie.
Or on the steamer you can sail,
All independent of the gale.
Or here the youth can ply the oar
And view the fast receding shore,
And be happy with his dearie
On the bosom of lake Erie.
No one here need ever weary
On the borders of lake Erie,
With quadrille parties at Stanley
And games and sports all so manly,
Or bathe in waves with friends near thee,
You fear not storms of lake Erie.
poem by James McIntyre
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Waverly
Late, when the Autumn evening fell
On Mirkwood–Mere's romantic dell,
The lake return'd, in chasten’d gleam,
The purple cloud, the golden beam:
Reflected in the crystal pool,
Headland and bank lay fair and cool;
The weather-tinted rock and tower,
Each drooping tree, each fairy flower,
So true, so soft, the mirror gave,
As if there lay beneath the wave,
Secure from trouble, toil, and care,
A world than earthly world more fair.
But distant winds began to wake,
And roused the Genius of the Lake!
He heard the groaning of the oak,
And donn'd at once his sable cloak,
As warrior, at the battle-cry,
Invests him with his panoply:
Then, as the whirlwind nearer press’d
He 'gan to shake his foamy crest
O'er furrow'd brow and blacken'd cheek,
And bade his surge in thunder speak.
In wild and broken eddies whirl'd.
Flitted that fond ideal world,
And to the shore in tumult tost
The realms of fairy bliss were lost.
Yet, with a stern delight and strange,
I saw the spirit-stirring change,
As warr'd the wind with wave and wood,
Upon the ruin'd tower I stood,
And felt my heart more strongly bound,
Responsive to the lofty sound,
While, joying in the mighty roar,
I mourn’d that tranquil scene no more.
So, on the idle dreams of youth,
Breaks the loud trumpet-call of truth,
Bids each fair vision pass away,
Like landscape on the lake that lay,
As fair, as flitting, and as frail,
As that which fled the Autumn gale.-—
For ever dead to fancy's eye
Be each gay form that glided by,
While dreams of love and lady's charms
Give place to honour and to arms!
poem by Sir Walter Scott
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Musings on the North West
Domestic cattle quiet will graze where now the Buffalos roam,
and in spots now covered o'er with Indian Wigwams,
where white men never trod, cities will occupy their
sites with busy trade, and millions throng from Eastern
lands to take possession of the great North-West; then
Winnipeg, perchance, may be the capital of the Domin-
ion. In the days fortold, when this indeed shall be the
'Greater Britain,' with Ontario's towns for work shops
for this vast Prairie land.
' And poets will arise and high their lays will soar,
Worthy of the muse of a Burns or a Moore,'
A Shakespeare and a Milton, the great and the wise
Will sing of the glories of our Northern skies ;
Of its lakes and rivers, and its mountains grand,
Of its fertile plains and great prairie land.
A fit theme for song this empire gigantic
Whose arms stretch from Pacific to Atlantic.
poem by James McIntyre
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Beautiiful Fairy Tale Dream..
Day after day
I think more about how
my life is more like a fairy tale
I believe that dreams do cum true
but you have to make them cum true yourself...
You can't just lay around and think
Prince Charming is going to just fall
in you lap....
In my fairy tale Prince Charming did
fall in my lap...
I've found my perfect Prince Charming and
he does everything right
he makes my dreams cum to life with ever kiss
I lay in bed at night and just think
about how lucky I am to have found
a Prince like him..
People may think his to good for me
but he believes I'm the perfect girl for him..
But the more I want my fairy tale to keep going the more
I think I try to hard and by
me trying so hard its going
its going to end my Beautiiful Fairy Tale Dream..
poem by Miizz. Beautiiful
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To my lost friend
What happened to my friend?
The one who said,
I will always be there for you
but did he?
They say a true friend never walks away
A true will always stay
A true friend looks out for you
but did he?
I had a friend
a good friend.
A friend I could
tell secrets to
but now that friend is gone
gone to a faraway land.
So all I can say is
Goodbye to my dear friend.
Take with you the memories, and enjoy them when you feel down.
Goodbye to my dear friend, let go of the anger, and learn to see the beauty in life again.
Search for the goodness in people, and forget what others think
poem by Shalini Mascarenhas
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A True Friend
A true friend
A true friend is the one who picks you up when you fall
A true friend is one that won't lie
A true friend is there when you call
A true friend is there when you want to die
A true friend knows just what to say
A true friend won't care what other people think
A true friend will help you find your way
A true friend will make sure you don't sink
A true friend will help you choose your path
A true friend will know when something is wrong
A true friend has to sometimes face your wrath
A true friend makes you feel like you belong
A true friend
poem by Ashley Reese
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Lowell
With pleasure we would love to dwell
On the charming themes of Lowell.
poem by James McIntyre
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Whittier
Others seek for music in the twitter
Of the sweet, charming notes of Whittier.
poem by James McIntyre
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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A True Friend
A true friend is the one who picks you up when you fall
A true friend is one that won't lie
A true friend is there when you call
A true friend is there when you want to die
A true friend knows just what to say
A true friend won't care what other people think
A true friend will help you find your way
A true friend will make sure you don't sink
A true friend will help you choose your path
A true friend will know when something is wrong
A true friend has to sometimes face your wrath
A true friend makes you feel like you belong
poem by Taylor Rease
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Three Portraits of Prince Charles
1731
BEAUTIFUL face of a child,
Lighted with laughter and glee,
Mirthful, and tender, and wild,
My heart is heavy for thee!
1744
Beautiful face of a youth,
As an eagle poised to fly forth
To the old land loyal of truth,
To the hills and the sounds of the North:
Fair face, daring and proud,
Lo! the shadow of doom, even now,
The fate of thy line, like a cloud,
Rests on the grace of thy brow!
1773
Cruel and angry face,
Hateful and heavy with wine,
Where are the gladness, the grace,
The beauty, the mirth that were thine?
Ah, my Prince, it were well,—
Hadst thou to the gods been dear,—
To have fallen where Keppoch fell,
With the war-pipe loud in thine ear!
To have died with never a stain
On the fair White Rose of Renown,
To have fallen, fighting in vain,
For thy father, thy faith, and thy crown!
More than thy marble pile,
With its women weeping for thee,
Were to dream in thine ancient isle,
To the endless dirge of the sea!
But the Fates deemed otherwise;
Far thou sleepest from home,
From the tears of the Northern skies,
In the secular dust of Rome.
A city of death and the dead,
But thither a pilgrim came,
Wearing on weary head
The crowns of years and fame:
Little the Lucrine lake
Or Tivoli said to him,
Scarce did the memories wake
Of the far-off years and dim,
For he stood by Avernus’ shore.
But he dreamed of a Northern glen,
And he murmured, over and o’er,
“For Charlie and his men:”
And his feet, to death that went,
Crept forth to St. Peter’s shrine,
And the latest Minstrel bent
O’er the last of the Stuart line.
poem by Andrew Lang
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River (Millie)
Flowing through my life like a river,
you provide that tranquility,
the ever constant path and rhythm.
You are all I could of asked for.
A friend I care for,
a friend I can't love more,
a friend so bright,
a friend sparkling my night.
A friend always there,
a friend who is always fair,
a friend who I respect,
a friend better than all the rest.
A friend I admire,
a friend who I can't tire,
I friend who I trust,
a friend which has no lust.
A friend who will last,
a friend who you can't cast,
a friend who is a treasure,
a friend forever for sure.
As I will try to keep you,
supporting you as I can,
standing by your side in decisions,
trusting you with my eyes closed.
poem by Javier Falcon
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Harvest Home Festivals
In summer time it doth seem good
To seek the shade of the green wood,
For it doth banish all our care
When we gaze on scene so fair.
And birds do here in branches sing
So merrily in early spring,
And lovingly they here do pair,
Their mutual joys together share.
Here nature's charming never rude, Inspiring all with happy mood,
Tables had choice fruit of season, And we too had feast of reason.
poem by James McIntyre
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Swimming, below zero...
We swam the lake in mid-November
For a silly, madcap, dare.
In the distance watched a figure.
With a look of, despair…
A man's grimacing eyes, watched
Fishing on the far bank
As it happens my stepfather, crotched-
Legged, looking point-blank.
Pole in hand; gazing above, the rod-tip.
30 minutes, swimming the lake
One-side, only, we wasn't equip?
We'd made a big mistake.
Sure enough his glances, like the water
Were deeper than, our despair.
Soon we'd have to walk back feeling nuder
Than if our underwear were made of mohair!
But with my best friend walking by my side
I still felt unsingly, warm inside...
poem by Mark Heathcote
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