The Vale Of Thames.

        In vale of Thames oft' times are seen
        The cattle graze 'mong sweetest green,
        Or there contented with their fate
        The gentle cows do ruminate.

        And enjoy a double pleasure
        In re-chewing hidden treasure,
        The cow is a kindly creature,
        Kind and pleasant in each feature.

        About her is a homely charm,
        And her the dog should not alarm,
        But let all safe guard her from harm,
        The gentlest creature on the farm.

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

Credit Valley Trip.

James McIntyre, Simple Poetry

Lorne And Louise.

James McIntyre, Simple Poetry

Indian Romance.

James McIntyre, Simple Poetry

Port Burwell.

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.

Windmills And Stone Stables.

        Cows suffered in the days of old
        For want of water and from cold,
        Now of good water they have fill
        For it is pumped by the windmill.

        No matter how well cows were fed
        They suffered cold in their board shed,
        But good stone walls now them enfold,
        And they are warm and safe from cold.

        Now they do enjoy their fodder,
        And repay with their full udder,
        If bran slops you on cow bestow
        Of milk it will increase the flow.

        And in your efforts do not halt
        But let them daily lick the salt,
        And never let the dogs them chase,
        But let them walk at their quiet pace.

James McIntyre

The Milkmaid

Under a daisied bank
There stands a rich red ruminating cow,
And hard against her flank
A cotton-hooded milkmaid bends her brow.

The flowery river-ooze
Upheaves and falls; the milk purrs in the pail;
Few pilgrims but would choose
The peace of such a life in such a vale.

The maid breathes words - to vent,
It seems, her sense of Nature's scenery,
Of whose life, sentiment,
And essence, very part itself is she.

She bends a glance of pain,
And, at a moment, lets escape a tear;
Is it that passing train,
Whose alien whirr offends her country ear? -

Nay! Phyllis does not dwell
On visual and familiar things like these;
What moves her is the spell
Of inner themes and inner poetries:

Could but by Sunday morn
Her gay ...

Thomas Hardy

Four Acre Farm.

        This is a tale, but it is truth,
        Of maiden lady named Ruth,
        She owned a small four acre farm,
        Which possessed some rural charm.

        This maiden she was past her youth,
        But none e're fell in love with Ruth,
        Though you must not infer from thence
        That she possessed not grace nor sense.

        She was handsome in her day,
        But beauty quickly fades away,
        Good vegetables and fine roots
        She growed and choicest kind of fruits.

        And a first-class good milch cow
        She kept, and a fine breeding sow,
        Her butter high price did command,
        Cow fed on best of pasture land.

        On it was pond where swam her geese,
        From small fl...

James McIntyre

The Cow.

("Devant la blanche ferme.")

[XV., May, 1837.]


Before the farm where, o'er the porch, festoon
Wild creepers red, and gaffer sits at noon,
Whilst strutting fowl display their varied crests,
And the old watchdog slumberously rests,
They half-attentive to the clarion of their king,
Resplendent in the sunshine op'ning wing -
There stood a cow, with neck-bell jingling light,
Superb, enormous, dappled red and white -
Soft, gentle, patient as a hind unto its young,
Letting the children swarm until they hung
Around her, under - rustics with their teeth
Whiter than marble their ripe lips beneath,
And bushy hair fresh and more brown
Than mossy walls at old gates of a town,
Calling to one another with loud cries
For younger imps to be in at ...

Victor-Marie Hugo

Ensilage.

        The farmers now should all adorn
        A few fields with sweet southern corn,
        It is luscious, thick and tall,
        The beauty of the fields in fall.

        For it doth make best ensilage,
        For those in dairying engage,
        It makes the milk in streams to flow,
        Where dairymen have a good silo.

        The cow is a happy rover
        O'er the fields of blooming clover,
        Of it she is a fond lover,
        And it makes milk pails run over.

James McIntyre

Alnaschar And The Oxen

There's a pasture in a valley where the hanging woods divide,
And a Herd lies down and ruminates in peace;
Where the pheasant rules the nooning, and the owl the twilight tide,
And the war-cries of our world die out and cease.
Here I cast aside the burden that each weary week-day brings
And, delivered from the shadows I pursue,
On peaceful, postless, Sabbaths I consider Weighty Things
Such as Sussex Cattle feeding in the dew!
At the gate beside the river where the trouty shallows brawl,
I know the pride that Lobengula felt,
When he bade the bars be lowered of the Royal Cattle Kraal,
And fifteen miles of oxen took the veldt.
From the walls of Bulawayo in unbroken file they came
To where the Mount of Council cuts the blue . . .
I have only six and twenty, but the principle...

Rudyard