Lines On A Lawn Party.

Where it was announced ten days previous that the cereus would bloom, August, 1888.


        We own we felt a little curious,
        To see the rare night blooming cereus,
        And as if 'twas divine anointed,
        It came in bloom at the time appointed,
        And gorgeous too their oleander,
        None 'ere saw shrub blossom grander.

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

Fertile Lands And Mammoth Cheese.

James McIntyre, Simple Poetry

Child Made Happy.

James McIntyre, Simple Poetry

Providential Escape.

James McIntyre, Simple Poetry

Hints To Cheese Makers.

James McIntyre, Simple Poetry

English

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O'er the fence the hollyhock
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I.

With a look and a laugh where the stream was flowing,
September led me along the land;
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II.

Now 'twas her hand and now her hair
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        I.

The juice-big apples' sullen gold,
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Barefooted, trousers out at knee,
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A hat of straw, brim-sagging broad, -
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A Far Place

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    Sheltered, when the rain blew over the hills it was,
    Sunny all day when the days of summer were long,
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    But at dawn and evening its trees were noisy with song.

    There were four elms on the southward lawn standing,
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    Where the morning rose the grey church was below us,
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John Collings Squire, Sir

July

Now 'tis the time when, tall,
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Among the trees; and, by the wooded stream,
In many a fragrant ball,
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Let us go forth and seek
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Plumps its packed burs; and, swelling, just in reach,
The pawpaw, emerald sleek,
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Now 'tis the time when ways
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Of the black-cohosh; and through bramble glooms,
A blur of orange rays,
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Let us go forth and hear
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Garden Gossip

Thin, chisel-fine a cricket chipped
The crystal silence into sound;
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Dew-syllables of sighed perfume;
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One whispered: "Did their step thrill through
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