Child Saved By Dog.

        Johnston he is an engineer,
        He always looks if track is clear,
        For he hath a keen eagle eye,
        Danger afar he doth espy.

        And he hath too a warm true heart,
        Of others woes he shares a part;
        One day he gazed far down the line,
        And a large dog he could define.

        So eager busy on the track,
        In mouth it seemed to lift a pack,
        But it oftentimes did fail
        For to raise it o'er the rail.

        The engineer put on his steam
        And he loud made his whistle scream,
        So that the dog would take alarm
        And thus preserve his life from harm.

        This noble dog, it feared not danger,
        Fear to him it was a stranger,
        His mistress child he wished to save,
        And all the danger he would brave.

        His last great effort did prevail,
        He raised it safe beyond the rail,
        Into a snug and hollow spot,
        A place seem'd formed for a child's cot.

        This dog of noble mastiff breed,
        For his own safety took no heed,
        But at approaching train did bark,
        To make them to his troubles hark.

        The engineer did sad bewail,
        To see the dog still on the rail,
        A moment more the beast is slain,
        Cut in two by the cruel train.

        The engineer now shuts off steam
        For to investigate the theme,
        That caused the dog to die at post,
        Finds to save child its life it lost.

        Faithful in the cause of duty,
        Saving life of little beauty,
        A little darling three year old,
        More precious than her weight in gold.

        On track she wandered for to play,
        But soon she in quiet slumber lay,
        And all the efforts of old Towser,
        Were not able to arouse her.

        The mother now in agony wild,
        Rushed down to train to find her child,
        There she found it sweetly sleeping,
        While some for faithful dog were weeping.

        And a brave man was engineer,
        For he himself knew not of fear,
        But his heart was filled with pain,
        Because the noble dog was slain.

James McIntyre

James McIntyre was a Canadian poet, most notable for his poetry concerning cheese, cheese-making, dairying, and dairy products. Often referred to as 'The Cheese Poet,' McIntyre's work is celebrated for its earnestness and unintentional humor, making him both a beloved and an infamous figure in literary circles. He emigrated from Scotland to Canada in 1851 and settled in Ingersoll, Ontario, where he became a successful businessman and community leader.

James McIntyre

Canada's Resources.

James McIntyre, Simple Poetry

Local Sketches.

James McIntyre, Simple Poetry

Bear And Falls.

James McIntyre, Simple Poetry

All Men Are Brothers.

James McIntyre, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

The Dog.

Of all the speechless friends of man
    The faithful dog I deem
Deserving from the human clan
    The tenderest esteem:

This feeling creature form'd to love,
    To watch, and to defend,
Was given to man by powers above,
    A guardian, and a friend!

I sing, of all e'er known to live
    The truest friend canine;
And glory if my verse may give,
    Brave Fido! it is thine.

A dog of many a sportive trick,
    Tho' rough and large of limb.
Fido would chase the floating stick
    When Lucy cried, "go swim."

And what command could Lucy give,
    Her dog would not obey?
For her it seemed his pride to live,
    Blest in her gentle sway!

For conscious of her every care
    He strain'd each feeling nerve,
To...

William Hayley

The Huntsman And His Hound.

When hill and dale, long years ago,
Lay clad in nature's dress,
And flourish'd the primeval pomp
Of nature's wilderness,

A huntsman and his hound would roam,
Where fed the timid deer,
And where the partridge's drum, or whirr,
Brought music to his ear.

In sooth, he heard all forest sounds
With real sportsman's joy;
And here he always pleasure found,
With little of alloy.

The pigeon's coo, the squirrel's chirp,
The wild-bird's thrilling lay,
Brought freshen'd pleasure to his heart,
At ev'ry op'ning day.

But music sweeter far than aught
In wood or vale around,
Was the loud crackling of the deer,
Or baying of his hound.

Full many a deer his steady aim,
With faithful rifle slew,
But, faithful as his rifle ...

Thomas Frederick Young

Fidelity

A barking sound the Shepherd hears,
A cry as of a dog or fox;
He halts and searches with his eyes
Among the scattered rocks:
And now at distance can discern
A stirring in a brake of fern;
And instantly a dog is seen,
Glancing through that covert green.

The Dog is not of mountain breed;
Its motions, too, are wild and shy;
With something, as the Shepherd thinks,
Unusual in its cry:
Nor is there any one in sight
All round, in hollow or on height;
Nor shout, nor whistle strikes his ear;
What is the creature doing here?

It was a cove, a huge recess,
That keeps, till June, December's snow;
A lofty precipice in front,
A silent tarn below!
Far in the bosom of Helvellyn,
Remote from public road or dwelling,
Pathway, or cultivat...

William Wordsworth

The Ballad Of The Little Black Hound

Who knocks at the Geraldines door to-night
        In the black storm and the rain?
With the thunder crash and the shrieking wind
        Comes the moan of a creatures pain.

And once they knocked, yet never a stir
        To show that the Geraldine knew;
And twice they knocked, yet never a bolt
        The listening Geraldine drew.

And thrice they knocked ere he moved his chair,
        And said, Whoever it be,
I dare not open the door to-night
        For a fear that has come to me.

Three times he rises from out his chair,
        And three times he sits him down.
Now what has made faint this heart of mine?
        He says with a growing frown.

Now what has made me a coward to-night,
        Who never knew fear before?

Dora Sigerson Shorter

Jackal And Child.

        In the great Province of Bengal,
        The scavenger is the Jackal,
        For it doth love each night to feast,
        On the carrion of some beast.

        The stench of which pollutes the air,
        But to this beast 'tis sweet and fair,
        Carcass to it is source of wealth,
        Jackals promote the public health.

        When the "Seapoys" did rebel,
        A strange adventure child befell,
        An English Colonel and his wife,
        They thought still distant was the strife.

        And left their little girl at home,
        While they to distant village roam;
        And thus saved their lives from slaughter,
        But rebels carried off their daughter.

        Their servant woman, a Hindoo,
   ...

James McIntyre

To A Bull-Dog

    (W. H. S., Capt. [Acting Major] R.F.A.; killed April 12, 1917)

    We sha'n't see Willy any more, Mamie,
    He won't be coming any more:
    He came back once and again and again,
    But he won't get leave any more.

    We looked from the window and there was his cab,
    And we ran downstairs like a streak,
    And he said "Hullo, you bad dog," and you crouched to the floor,
    Paralysed to hear him speak,

    And then let fly at his face and his chest
    Till I had to hold you down,
    While he took off his cap and his gloves and his coat.
    And his bag and his thonged Sam Browne.

    We went upstairs to the studio,
    The three of us, just as of old,
    And you lay down and I sat and talked to him
    As round the...

John Collings Squire, Sir