River Clyde.

        The Glasgow people do take pride
        In their river both deep and wide,
        In early times the youth and maid
        Did o'er its shallow waters wade.

        But city money did not grudge,
        And dug it deep with the steam dredge,
        And now proudly on its bosom floats
        The mighty ships and great steamboats.

        No wonder citizens take pride
        For they themselves have made the Clyde,
        Great and navigable river,
        Where huge fleets will float forever.

        Dunbarton's lofty castle rock[G]
        Which oft' has stood the battle's shock,
        The river it doth boldly guard,
        So industry may reap reward.

        But more protection still they deem
        Is yet required so down the stream
        Strong batteries are erected,
        So commerce may be safe protected.

        Old ocean now he doth take pride
        To see upon his bosom ride
        The commerce of his youngest bride,
        The fair and lovely charming Clyde.

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

Elf Shot.

James McIntyre, Simple Poetry

George Menzies' Poems, 1883.

James McIntyre, Simple Poetry

A Bird's Nest.

James McIntyre, Simple Poetry

Brantford.

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.

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

Highland Sketches.

        The Romans, Saxons and the Danes
        Did oft o'er run the Scottish plains.
        So daring were those mauraders
        And skilful too were invaders.

        The lowland man enjoyed his farm,
        But oft he was in great alarm,
        When Highlanders o'er plain would sweep
        And drive to hills his steers and sheep.

        For highlandmen were taught in song
        The lowlands to them did belong,
        Each highland chief he ruled like king
        And Bards they did his praises sing,

        In war the chief he led the van,
        Marching to battle with his clan,
        And when the foe attacked their chief
        The clansmen rushed to his relief.

        When they King William's forces mass
    ...

James McIntyre

Greenock

'We' have not passed into a doleful City,
We who were led to-day down a grim dell,
By some too boldly named "the Jaws of Hell:"
Where be the wretched ones, the sights for pity?
These crowded streets resound no plaintive ditty:
As from the hive where bees in summer dwell,
Sorrow seems here excluded; and that knell,
It neither damps the gay, nor checks the witty.
Alas! too busy Rival of old Tyre,
Whose merchants Princes were, whose decks were thrones;
Soon may the punctual sea in vain respire
To serve thy need, in union with that Clyde
Whose nursling current brawls o'er mossy stones,
The poor, the lonely, herdsman's joy and pride.

William Wordsworth

On The Frith Of Clyde - In A Steamboat

Arran! a single-crested Teneriffe,
A St. Helena next in shape and hue,
Varying her crowded peaks and ridges blue;
Who but must covet a cloud-seat, or skiff
Built for the air, or winged Hippogriff?
That he might fly, where no one could pursue,
From this dull Monster and her sooty crew;
And, as a God, light on thy topmost cliff.
Impotent wish! which reason would despise
If the mind knew no union of extremes,
No natural bond between the boldest schemes,
Ambition frames, and heart-humilities.
Beneath stern mountains many a soft vale lies,
And lofty springs give birth to lowly streams.

William Wordsworth

The Shires On The Moray Frith.

        Worthy of either song or story
        Are the shires round frith of Moray,
        Here lies the valley of Strathspey,
        Famed for its music, lively, gay,
        Elgin cathedral's 'prentice aisle
        Is glory of that ruined pile.
        What modern chisel now could trace
        Fine sculpture of that ancient place,
        And Forres famed for Sweno's stane
        In honor of that kingly Dane,
        'Graved with warriors runes and rhymes,
        Long prior to historic times,
        For a thousand years its been forgot
        Who was victor Dane or Scot,
        It is the country of McBeth
        Where good King Duncan met his death,
        And barren heath that place of fear
        Stood witches cauldron of Shakespeare,

James McIntyre

Bothwell Castle

Immured in Bothwell's Towers, at times the Brave
(So beautiful is the Clyde) forgot to mourn
The liberty they lost at Bannockburn.
Once on those steeps I roamed at large, and have
In mind the landscape, as if still in sight;
The river glides, the woods before me wave;
But, by occasion tempted, now I crave
Needless renewal of an old delight.
Better to thank a dear and long-past day
For joy its sunny hours were free to give
Than blame the present, that our wish hath crost.
Memory, like Sleep, hath powers which dreams obey,
Dreams, vivid dreams, that are not fugitive;
How little that she cherishes is lost!

William Wordsworth