Biography of Thomas Cowherd
Thomas C. Cowherd (March 20, 1817 – April 4, 1907) was a tinsmith and poet.
Cowherd was born in Kendal, Westmorland, England. He apprenticed as a tinsmith from age 13 to 20 in England. His family immigrated to Canada in 1837. Cowherd eventually settled on Colborne Street in Brantford, Ontario.
He was President of the Brantford Branch Bible Society, President of the Brantford Mechanic's Institute and Literary Association, a school trustee, and was elected as a town councillor in 1869.He was a prolific poet and song writer. Much of his poetry appeared in newspapers. A collection, The Emigrant Mechanic and Other Tales in Verse", was published in 1884.
His first marriage, to Ann Batty, produced five children. After her death, his second marriage, to Ann's sister Ellen, produced eleven more children.
The Cowherd family were friends and associates of Alexander Graham Bell. Bell used the tinsmithing services of the Cowherds to help produce prototypes for the telephone, and to open the world's first telephone factory. He also called on them to string wire and to assist in demonstrations. Thomas spent many hours speaking with Alexander on the telephone between the Cowherd home in Brantford and the Bell Homestead.
He died in Chatham, Ontario.
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Thomas Cowherd Poems
To My Wife, On The 25th Anniversary Of O...
Dear Bride of five-and-twenty years, I gladly give to thee this song. That thou wilt spurn it I've no fears, For love still reigns within thee strong
To My Wife, On The 30th Anniversary Of O...
Full thirty years of wedded bliss, My darling wife, we have enjoyed; And still I can with rapture kiss Thy sweet, chaste lips-for I am void
The Sewing Machine
I sing the Sewing Machine, The blessings it brings to the fair. Some of those blessings I've seen, And therefore its praises declare.
The Fire Alarm
Fire-fire-fire! Nigher still and nigher Seem the tones of the 'Alarum bell' borne on the air! Awaking with a start, what a sinking of the heart Even the strong are apt to feel, ere they are well aware!
Song To The Lily Of The Valley
Lily of the valley, this brief poetic sally At the very least is due unto thee. Thy fragrant wax-like flowers all freshened by Spring showers Seem purity embodied unto me
The Faithful Pastor
To the deep umbrage of our North back woods, And near to Huron's wild romantic shore- Where Winter's storms are seen in angry moods, To make the Lake's waves dash with loudest roar-
To My Daughter Ellen, On Her Wedding Day...
Ellen, on this glad occasion I address to you a rhyme, And in tones of sweet persuasion Would advise you at this time
To My Wife, On The 13th Anniversary Of O...
A thousand joys, my darling wife, Be thine on this our marriage day! And now I'll sing; for such a life As we have led deserves a lay
An An Address By The Members Of The Inst...
Dear friends, to this our social feast, We bid you welcome gladly, And trust you will not in the least Spend moments with us sadly
To The Humming Bird
Hail to thee, Humming Bird Beauteous and bright, That flitt'st like a spirit Before my rapt sight!
A Tribute To The Bravery Of My Cousin, M...
Dear cousin, I hail you as Mother most brave, Who crossed in mid-winter Atlantic's broad wave! What you had to suffer in part I conceive, Though no gloomy story you made me believe
Acrostics: Iii. A Tribute To The Memory ...
A task so painful, yet so justly due To thee, my dear, my much respected Brother, Rightly devolves on me whose heart beats true In Zion's cause; yet, would it were another!
I Saw A Youthful Mother Lie
I saw a youthful mother lie Upon the bed of death. No bitter tears bedimmed her eye Though parents, spouse, and friends were nigh
Ode To Peace
Come, dove-eyed peace-offspring of heaven, descend; Thy calm, sweet influence do thou me lend; Dispel the gloom that broods upon my mind; Bid melancholy flee; make me resigned
TUNE, 'AULD LANG SYNE.'
When the wild cry of fire is heard
Borne on the midnight air,
And those who listen soon are stirred
To anxious ask 'Where? Where?'
Our Firemen brave, full bent to save,
Rush to their engine room;
And flushed with hope they grasp each rope,