William Henry Drummond

(13 April, 1854 – 6 April, 1907 / Mohill, County Leitrim)

William Henry Drummond Poems

1. The Habitants Jubilee Ode 4/12/2010
2. The Grand Seigneur 4/12/2010
3. My Little Cabane 4/12/2010
4. The Canadian Magpie 4/12/2010
5. The Dublin Fusilier 4/12/2010
6. The Hill Of San Sebastian 4/12/2010
7. The Cure Of Calumette 4/12/2010
8. Marie Louise 4/12/2010
9. The Oyster Schooner 4/12/2010
10. The Old Sexton 4/12/2010
11. Mon Choual 4/12/2010
12. National Policy 4/12/2010
13. Ole Docteur Fiset 4/12/2010
14. The Corduroy Road 4/12/2010
15. Mon Frere Camille 4/12/2010
16. Maxime Labelle 4/12/2010
17. Strathcona's Horse 4/12/2010
18. Two Hundred Years Ago 4/12/2010
19. The Habitants Summer 4/12/2010
20. Memories 4/12/2010
21. The Rose Delima 4/12/2010
22. The Old Pine Tree 4/12/2010
23. Pelang 4/12/2010
24. The Old House And The New 4/12/2010
25. When Albani Sang 4/12/2010
26. Little Mouse 4/12/2010
27. The Red Canoe 4/12/2010
28. Bateese The Lucky Man 4/12/2010
29. Spring Bereaved 3 1/4/2003
30. The Canadian Country Doctor 4/12/2010
31. Johnnie's First Moose 4/12/2010
32. Donal Campbell 4/12/2010
33. De Camp On De 4/12/2010
34. The Windigo 4/12/2010
35. Dreams 4/12/2010
36. Leetle Lac Grenier 4/12/2010
37. Spring Bereaved 1 1/4/2003
38. Ole Tam On Bord-A-Plouffe 4/12/2010
39. De Bell Of St. Michel 4/12/2010
40. Madrigal 1/4/2003
Best Poem of William Henry Drummond

The Wreck Of The "Julie Plante": A Legend Of Lac St. Pierre

1 On wan dark night on Lac St. Pierre,
2 De win' she blow, blow, blow,
3 An' de crew of de wood scow "Julie Plante"
4 Got scar't an' run below—
5 For de win' she blow lak hurricane,
6 Bimeby she blow some more,
7 An' de scow bus' up on Lac St. Pierre
8 Wan arpent from de shore.

9 De captinne walk on de fronte deck,
10 An' walk de hin' deck too—
11 He call de crew from up de hole,
12 He call de cook also.
13 De cook she 's name was Rosie,
14 She come from Montreal, ...

Read the full of The Wreck Of The "Julie Plante": A Legend Of Lac St. Pierre

Saint John Baptist

THE last and greatest Herald of Heaven's King,
Girt with rough skins, hies to the deserts wild,
Among that savage brood the woods forth bring,
Which he than man more harmless found and mild.
His food was locusts, and what young doth spring
With honey that from virgin hives distill'd;
Parch'd body, hollow eyes, some uncouth thing
Made him appear, long since from earth exiled.
There burst he forth: 'All ye, whose hopes rely

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