Port Stanley.

        In winter time 'tis sad and dreary
        For to gaze on stormy Erie,
        But here in summer time this port
        It is a 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 no storms of Lake Erie.

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

Bear And Whale.

James McIntyre, Simple Poetry

Little Hero.

James McIntyre, Simple Poetry

James Hogg.

James McIntyre, Simple Poetry

Cheese Curd For Bait.

James McIntyre, Simple Poetry

English

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Canadian Rivers And Lakes.

        We have here a sight as fair
        As bonnie Doon or banks of Ayr,
        Like modest worth meandering slow
        The quiet waters gently flow,
        Rose, thistle, shamrock, all combine,
        Around the maple leaf to twine,
        Whose outstretched arms so gigantic
        Clasp Pacific and Atlantic,
        Embracing lakes like burnished gold,
        With joy a Shakespeare might behold,
        For either Poet Burns or Moore[B]
        Such scenery they would adore.

James McIntyre

Port Burwell.

The following lines were given at a concert when Port Burwell was a busy port and there had been a race on the ice the day before.


        In winter time who here resort,
        To pay a visit to your busy port,
        They must be clad in fur well,
        For it blows cold at Burwell;
        But when you wish to trot your horse
        You make Lake Erie your race course,
        And we believe at every heat
        All other horses you do beat.

James McIntyre

St. Catharines.

Lines read at the Welland House, St. Catharines, at a banquet given to the members in attendance at the Oddfellows' Grand Lodge.


        St. Catharines famed for mineral waters
        And for the beauty of her daughters,
        For some do worship at the shrines
        Of the fair St. Catharines.

        St. Catharines your greatness you inherit
        From the genius of a Merritt,
        You still would be a village dreary
        But for this canal from lake Erie.

        For on its bosom there doth float
        Full many a ship and steamboat,
        Brings world's commerce to your doors
        And many gifts on you it pours.

        Among its many great rewards
        It gives you dry docks and ship yards,
        To drive ...

James McIntyre

Autumn Days

In dreams of the night I hear the call
Of wild duck scudding across the lake,
In dreams I see the old convent wall,
Where Ottawa's waters surge and break.

But Hercule awakes me ere the sun
Has painted the eastern skies with gold.
Hercule! true knight of the rod and gun
As ever lived in the days of old.

"Arise! tho' the moon hangs high above,
The sun will soon usher in the day,
And the southerly wind that sportsmen love
is blowing across St. Louis Bay."

The wind is moaning among the trees,
Along the shore where the shadows lie,
And faintly borne on the fresh'ning breeze
From yonder point comes the loon's wild cry.

Like diamonds flashing athwart the tide
The dancing moonbeams quiver and glow,
As out on the deep we swiftly glide<...

William Henry Drummond

In July.

I.

Oh, for a deep-shaded spot where the shadows cool
    Are hid from the rays of the glaring sun,
And the sparkling waters from a limped pool
    O'er the gleaming pebbles in ripples run!


II.

Where the sloping banks are with verdure clad,
    And the hoary cliffs with moss o'ergrown,
And the tangled vine and the wildflowers pad
    The fallen trunk and the hidden stone!


III.

Where the song that wells from a feathered throat
    The echoes repeat again and again,
And the drifted sedge and the bubbles float
    O'er the glassy depths of a miniature main!


IV.

Where the willows dip in the edge of the stream,
    And sway and nod in the passing breeze,
And a feller could tranquilly rest and drea...

George W. Doneghy

Niagara Dry.

        It happened once in early spring,
            While there did float great thick ice cakes,
        That then a gale did quickly bring
            Them all down from the upper lakes.

        And from Buffalo to Lake Erie,
            Across the entrance to river,
        It was a scene of icebergs dreary,
            Those who saw will remember ever.

        Then gale blew up lake and river,
            And left Niagara almost dry,
        This a lady did discover
            As above the Falls she cast her eye.

        Such scene it had been witnessed never,
            Since Israelites crossed the Red Sea,
        When they had resolved forever
            From Pharaoh's bondage to flee.

        Lady she resolved to venture,

James McIntyre