James McIntyre Poems

Gardner told a sad tale of woe,
How he was oft o'erwhelmed in snow
But was he frightened ? no ! no ! ! no ! ! !
He onward cheerfully did go,
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A horrid goat we have to ride,
With long horns and shaggy hide,
And that the beast we have to stride well
Without saddle or a bridle.
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Poetry to us is given
As stars beautify the heaven,
Or, as the sunbeams when they gleam,
Sparkling so bright upon the stream ;
And the poetry of motion
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And Millar, Poet of Sierras,
For bold deeds he doth prepare us.
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Other seek for music in the twitter
Of the sweet charming notes of Whittier ;
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At Forres is a large round stone,
A relic of the days by gone;
For here there were two witches burned,
Underneath their ashes urned.
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O for a Lodge in some vast wilderness,'
A man cryed out in his distress,
For he was tired and sick of life,
And weary of this worldly strife,
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We now do sing a new theme,
It is prodigious power of steam ;
And our little fast steam horse,
How he works with mighty force.
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We look in vain for our past grands,
Now scattered over many lands ;
For some o'er the wide world doth rove,
And some have joined Grand Lodge above.
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Written during the visit of delegates from the Lower Provinces
to negotiate for confederation.
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