The Coming Of Champlain.

(From the prose of Parkman.)

Up the St. Lawrence with well-weather'd sails
A lonely vessel clove its foaming track.
None hail'd its coming; the white floundering whales
Disported in the Bay of Tadoussac;
The wild duck div'd before its figured prow;
The painted savage spied it from the shore,
And dream'd not that his reign was ended now, -
That that strange ship a new Aeneas bore,

Whose pale-fac'd inconsiderable band
Were pioneers of an aggressive host
Of thousands, millions, filling all the land,
And 'stablishing therein from coast to coast
This civil state, with cities, temples, marts,
Schools, laws and peaceful industries and arts.

W. M. MacKeracher

W. M. MacKeracher was a poet known for his contributions to Canadian literature during the early 20th century. His works often focused on themes of nature, human emotion, and the simplicity of rural life. Though not as widely known as some of his contemporaries, MacKeracher's poetry has been appreciated for its lyrical quality and depth. Much of his work was published in regional journals and anthologies, capturing the essence of Canadian landscapes and the human experience within them. His exact birth and death dates remain obscure.

W. M. MacKeracher

Montreal.

W. M. MacKeracher, Simple Poetry

In May.

W. M. MacKeracher, Simple Poetry

The Song of the Summer Cloud.

W. M. MacKeracher, Simple Poetry

E'en The Fair Orb.

W. M. MacKeracher, Simple Poetry

English

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Champlain's First Winter And Spring In Quebec.

(From the prose of Parkman.)

I. THE WINTER.

September bade the sail of Pontgravé
Godspeed, and smil'd upon the infant nation;
October deckt the shores and hills with "gay
Prognostics of approaching desolation."
Ere long the forest, steep'd in golden gloom,
Dropt rustling down its shrivel'd festal dress,
And chill November, sombre as the tomb,
Sank on the vast primeval wilderness.

Inexorable winter's iron vice
Gript hard the land, funereal with snow;
The stream was fill'd with grinding drifts of ice;
A fell disease laid twenty Frenchmen low
In death, and left the dauntless leader eight
With whom to hold the New World's fortress gate.


II. THE SPRING.

The purgatory pass'd - the stalactites
That fring'd the cliffs fell...

W. M. MacKeracher

The Montagnais At Tadoussac.

(From the prose of Parkman.)

The lodges of the Montagnais were there,
Who reaped the harvest of the woods and rocks -
Skins of the moose and cariboo and bear,
Fur of the beaver, marten, otter, fox.
From where the shivering nomad lurks among
The stunted forests south of Hudson's Bay
They piloted their frail canoes along
By many a tributary's devious way;

Then between mountains stern as Teneriffe
Their confluent flotillas glided down
The Saguenay, and pass'd beneath the cliff
Whose shaggy brows athwart the zenith frown,
And reach'd the Bay of Trinity, dark, lone,
And silent as the tide of Acheron.

W. M. MacKeracher

St. Lawrence And The Coming Ships.

    I cannot loiter on my way,
        The ice is drifting through Belle Isle,
    And far to seaward by Cape Ray
        Broad leagues of open water smile.
    Unheeded now, the inland barge
        Creeps heavily, the fisher dips
    His meshes in my brimming marge;
        I go to meet the coming ships.

    They steam from Thames by Dover Strait,
        They cleave the Bristol Channel's tide,
    They pass the Mersey's thronging gate,
        And issue from the crowded Clyde.
    Out past the homing craft they sheer,
        The Irish coastline by them slips;
    Ere many days they will be here:
        I go to meet the coming ships.

    Full-fraught with wealth of merchandise,
        They plough the main with furrows deep;
    Upon ...

W. M. MacKeracher

In Camp.

With sable wings wide o'er the land
night sprinkles the dew of the heavens;
And hard by the dark river's strand,
in the midst of a tall, somber forest,
Two camp fires are lighted and beam
on the trunks and the arms of the pine trees.
In the fitful light darkle and gleam
the swarthy-hued faces around them.
And one is the camp of DuLuth,
and the other the camp of Tamdóka.
But few are the jests and uncouth
of the voyageurs over their supper,
While moody and silent the braves
round their fire in a circle sit crouching;
And low is the whisper of leaves
and the sough of the wind in the branches;
And low is the long-winding howl
of the lone wolf afar in the forest;
But shrill is the hoot of the owl,
like a bugle-blast blown in the pine-tops,
And t...

Hanford Lennox Gordon

Canadian Voyageurs On The Nile.

        The British soldiers on the Nile
        With gratitude did kindly smile,
        On the Canadian voyageurs
        Who skilfully did ply their oars.

        And they invoked their benison
        On boatsmen led by Denison,
        Neither the rapids nor the falls
        Along the Nile these braves appals.

        For in such toils they did partake,
        On each native stream and lake,
        Thoughts of their homes in visions throng,
        While singing Canadian boat song.

        And they all hoped again to see
        The glorious land of maple tree,
        From their memories they never
        Forgot the land of lake and river.

        While up the Nile they do advance
        They dream about their own St. La...

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