Disaster To Steamer Victoria At London.

        At London Thames is a broad stream,
        Which was the scene of a sad theme,
        A fragile steamer there did play,
        O'ercrowded on a Queen's Birthday,
        While all on board was bright and gay,
        But soon 'neath the cold waters lay,
        Naught but forms of lifeless clay,
        Which made, alas! sad month of May.

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

Duck And Oyster.

James McIntyre, Simple Poetry

Hunters And Trappers.

James McIntyre, Simple Poetry

The Useful Weed.

James McIntyre, Simple Poetry

Mrs. Moody.

James McIntyre, Simple Poetry

English

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London Flood, July 11th, 1883.

        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 wealth and joy and bloom,
        Soon naught but inmates of 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 cr...

James McIntyre

Sailing Ships

Lying on Downs above the wrinkling bay
I with the kestrels shared the cleanly day,
The candid day; wind-shaven, brindled turf;
Tall cliffs; and long sea-line of marbled surf
From Cornish Lizard to the Kentish Nore
Lipping the bulwarks of the English shore,
While many a lovely ship below sailed by
On unknown errand, kempt and leisurely;
And after each, oh, after each, my heart
Fled forth, as, watching from the Downs apart,
I shared with ships good joys and fortunes wide
That might befall their beauty and their pride;

Shared first with them the blessèd void repose
Of oily days at sea, when only rose
The porpoise's slow wheel to break the sheen
Of satin water indolently green,
When for'ard the crew, caps tilted over eyes,
Lay heaped on deck; slept; mum...

Victoria Mary Sackville-West

The Convergence Of The Twain

(Lines on the loss of the "Titanic")

I

    In a solitude of the sea
    Deep from human vanity,
And the Pride of Life that planned her, stilly couches she.

II

    Steel chambers, late the pyres
    Of her salamandrine fires,
Cold currents thrid, and turn to rhythmic tidal lyres.

III

    Over the mirrors meant
    To glass the opulent
The sea-worm crawls grotesque, slimed, dumb, indifferent.

IV

    Jewels in joy designed
    To ravish the sensuous mind
Lie lightless, all their sparkles bleared and black and blind.

V

    Dim moon-eyed fishes near
    Gaze at the gilded gear
And query: "What does this vaingloriousness down here?" . . .

VI

    Well: while was fash...

Thomas Hardy

The Cruise of the In Memoriam

The wan light of a stormy dawn
Gleamed on a tossing ship:
It was the In Memoriam
Upon a mourning trip.

Wild waves were on the windward bow,
And breakers on the lee;
And through her sides the women heard
The seething of the sea.

O Captain! cried a widow fair,
Her plump white hands clasped she,
Thinkst thou, if drowned in this dread storm,
That savèd we shall be?

You speak in riddles, lady dear,
How savèd can we be
If we are drowned? Alas, I mean
In Paradise! said she.

O Ive sailed North, and Ive sailed South
(He was a godless wight),
But boy or man, since my days began,
That shore I neer did sight!

The Captain told the First Mate bold
What that fair lady said;
The First Mate sneered in h...

Victor James Daley

Summer In London

    Oh, the noise of Piccadilly - its rumble and its roar!
    A tide of life's broad ocean surging toward the shore.
    Who once has listened, ever can hear its long refrain
    With haunting echo drowning or dirge or flaunting strain.
    Who heeds it, in his vision may see a world-throng pass -
    And over there the Green Park with laughing lad and lass;
    While weary men and women and careless youth go by,
    Where windows glow and glitter, and in the evening sky
    A crescent moon is watching the laughing lass and lad.
    The long, warm London twilight! Happy they are, though sad.
    With kiss and tear they are parting. 'Tis late - the rush and roar -
    The life of Picadilly is waning - is no more.

    Ah, the dark, the cold, the stillness of the trenches in ...

Helen Leah Reed

The Titanic Disaster Poem

    REVISED


    I.

    On the cold and dark Atlantic,
        The night was growing late
    Steamed the maiden ship Titanic
        Crowded with human freight
    She was valued at Ten Million,
        The grandest ever roamed the seas,
    Fitted complete to swim the ocean
        When the rolling billows freeze.


    II.


    She bade farewell to England
        All dressed in robes of white
    Going out to plow the briny deep,
        And was on her western flight;
    She was now so swiftly gliding
        In L Fifty and Fourteen
    When the watchman viewed the monster
        Just a mile from it, Twas seen.


    III.

    Warned by a German vessel
        Of an enemy just...

J H McKenzie