Poems of James McIntyre Part 12

But the courage of young Grant, It did not for a moment daunt, Though rod it now is far beyond, He plunged into deep, cold spring pond.

And seized his rod and then drew out A beauteous seven pound trout, Which had grown from the seed From sp.a.w.n of California breed.

And Californian in its greed, On the sweet curd wished to feed; But, alas, for it's sad fate, It swallowed hook along with bait.

CANADIAN SKETCHES.

THANKSGIVING ODE, NOVEMBER 15TH, 1888.

September came and with it frost The season's pasture it seemed lost, And the wondrous yield of corn Of its green beauty it was shorn.

Frost it came like early robber, But gentle rains came in October, Which were absorbed by grateful soil; With green once more the pastures smile.

And cows again are happy seen Enjoying of the pastures green, And flow of milk again they yield From the sweet feed of gra.s.sy field.

And we have now a fine November, Warmer far than in September; The apple, which is queen of fruits, Was a good crop and so is roots.

The rains they did replenish springs, And it grat.i.tude to each heart brings, When we reflect on bounteous season, For grateful feelings all have reason.

AGRICULTURAL IMPLEMENTS.

Poor laborers they did sad bewail, When the machine displaced the flail, There's little work now with the hoes.

Since cultivators weed the rows.

Labor it became more fickle, When the scythe took place of sickle, Labor still it did sink lower, By introduction of mower.

And the work was done much cheaper When they added on the reaper, Another machine to it they join, Mower, reaper, binder, all combine.

Machines now load and stow away, Both the barley and the hay, And the farmers do get richer With the loader and the pitcher.

There's very few men now hand sows, No more broad cast the grain it grows, They sow and rake by the machine, Hand labor is 'mong the things have been.

Armed with scythes the old war chariot, Cut men down in the fierce war riot, Round farmers' chariot fall the slain, But 'tis the sheaves of golden grain.

WHEN TO SELL GRAIN AND FARM PRODUCE.

Grain it should be sold in the fall Even if the price it should be small, For if you keep it till the spring Sometimes a less price it doth bring.

For grain with whole world doth compete, You cannot raise the price of wheat, Then at once you should embark it On its way to world's market.

We hope our views you don't despise, For grain doth shrink in weight and size, If you sell wheat you can get gold, Retain it, damp may make it mould.

Remember too that of your wheat The rats of it will fondly eat, Sell it and money then invest, And you can get good interest.

The same remarks apply to cheese, It shrinks and frosts make it to freeze, Then careful man you have to hire At great expense to keep up fire.

If you your produce quick do move, The business soon it will improve, And then mankind will you bless For alleviating their distress.

And it pays best to sell each pig, Plump and young, not old, fat and big, Young and tender now's the vogue Either in cattle or in hog.

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-cla.s.s good milch cow She kept, and a fine breeding sow, Her b.u.t.ter high price did command, Cow fed on best of pasture land.

On it was pond where swam her geese, From small flock of sheep she sheared fleece, And thus she pa.s.sed year after year, Her cares they kept her in good cheer.

Each year she raised large chicken brood, And for them she grew lots of food, In winter time it was her rule To knit and spin up her own wool.

And thus her uneventful life Doth pa.s.s without jar or strife, 'Tis seldom she e're feels alarm, But quietly tills her little farm.

To plow her little fields of course She does require to drive her horse, This little pony looks quite smart Drawing old maid in little cart.

HARVEST HOME FESTIVAL.

In summer time it doth seem good To seek the shade of the green wood, For it doth banish all our care When we gaze on scene so fair.

And birds do here in branches sing So merrily in early spring, And lovingly they here do pair Their mutual joys together share.

Here nature's charming, never rude, Inspiring all with happy mood, Tables had choice fruits of season, And we too had feast of reason.

To dinner table all did march Through evergreen triumphal arch, On top the Union Jack it floats, On each side sheaves of wheat and oats.

Great pumpkins and big ears of corn, They do this rural arch adorn, We are reminded now 'tis fall, And boys enjoy game of baseball.

With joy at night each one did gaze At the mighty bonfire's blaze, The tree leaves shone like silver bright, The lanterns too were pleasing sight.

CORNER STONE LAYING.

The following lines were read at the festival after the stone had been laid by Grand Master Col. Moffat, of a church on the Culloden road, with Masonic honors.