Poems of James McIntyre Part 25

In the Township of Nissouri, There the hawk it came to sorrow, But it strove often for to sink, In vain it strove to drown the mink,

But mink it did successful balk, All the attacks were made by hawk, The bird was drenched, it could not fly, And ne'er again it soared on high.

LINES WRITTEN IN A MENTAL ALb.u.m.

Where each one expressed some sentiment.

In this alb.u.m you may trace, If not the lineaments of face, There at least you will find Photographs of the mind.

Some in earnest some in fun, Some do lecture some do pun, Here the maiden and the youth, Each proclaim some precious truth.

And there is here some fine pages, Written by maturer ages, Where they show that time is brief, That soon comes sere and yellow leaf.

EVERY ROSE HATH ITS THORN.

There was a maiden all forlorn, She loved a youth, his name was Thorn, But he was shy for to disclose How he loved dear the sweet May Rose.

l.u.s.tre sweet it would give to Thorn, If this fair flower would it adorn, Said he all other names above Your charming name alone I love.

Said she of beauty 'tis soon shorn, Unless that it is joined to Thorn, It very soon doth droop and die, And she heaved a gentle sigh.

Said he we'll wed to-morrow morn, No more from me you shall be torn, For you will banish all my woes, And near my heart I'll wear the rose.

Now little rose buds they are born, All clinging to the parent Thorn, In grace and beauty each one grows, Full worthy of the sweet May Rose.

Some flowers they only shed their bloom In the sweet month of leafy June, But May doth bloom each month in year A fragrant Rose forever dear.

DANGER OF FIRE ARMS.

For to save life one great solver Would be to prohibit the revolver, Weapon of coward and of bully, Who slaughter friends in their folly.

Let now no man or any boy, With loaded arms ever toy, Showing off their manly vigor, Pointing to friend and pulling trigger.

And sending bullet through their brain, And then exclaim in mournful strain, When friends with grief they are goaded, I did not know that it was loaded.

Fire arms oft' times do bring woes, And they kill more friends than foes, Hunting now o'er fertile fields, 'Tis seldom that it profit yields.

BIRD SENT BY PROVIDENCE.

A poor man stood beside his door, His sad fate for to deplore, For landlord's heart would not relent, And seized his furniture for rent.

He hears song sweet as from fairy, And soon he sees a canary, Into his cage it did alight And poured forth notes sweet and bright.

But owner of the bird did mourn, And sadly longed for its return, Without it she found no delight, So she did landlord's bill requite.

The poor man thinks the bird was sent By the Lord to pay up his rent, And he now stout maintains from thence That there is a kind Providence.

HELP IN NEED.

A poor man's horse it ran away, Soon man upon the roadside lay, With his leg all badly broken, Of sympathy some gave token.

One said your trouble grieves my heart, But with his money would not part, Another said, while heaving sighs, It brings the tears into mine eyes.

But a good true hearted man, His heart with kindness it o'er ran, The poorest man among the three, A pound he did contribute free.

Others gave in empty feeling, But this poor man he did bring healing, The giver only Lord doth prize, Who helps afflicted for to rise.

O FOR A LODGE.

"O for a lodge in some vast wilderness"

A man cried out in his distress, For he was tired and sick of life, And weary of this worldly strife, And longed for to be far away From the continuous daily fray.

But the fond partner of his life, His own dearest, loving wife, Those sentiments did not admire, For fiercely they did rouse her ire, Said she, I'll never let you budge To go and join another lodge, Your lodges take six nights each week, And still another lodge you seek, Continuous abroad you'll roam, And never enter your own home.

A BIRD'S NEST.

An old man who had charge of field, With pride he saw two birds did build, A broad capacious warm nest, So full of young with speckled breast,

And when the old man there did pa.s.s, They soon ran merry 'mong the gra.s.s, But of the youth they were so shy, They made strong efforts for to fly.