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In Anticipation Of Autumn

But now the Summer hastens to its close, And soon will Song a different aspect wear, Sweeping terrific, clad in ghostly snows, And lit by the flash of the Boreal glare, Or, but a poet in his easy chair; And her most pleasing aspect now beguiles What time is hers with deft, endearing air: With gorgeous gold she decks her garments, whiles Her melancholy face with Indian Summer smiles. Thy very smile sends sadness to my heart. Farewell! sweet love, the... Poems - Post by : TechnoScribe - Date : November 2011 - Author : W. M. Mackeracher - Read : 1089

Before Harvest

And now 'tis time for Harvest. Hark! and lo, With ringing sound of full melodious horn, Over yon eastern hill-top all aglow,-- Her sickle gleaming in the golden morn, Her arm upraised with sheaf of yellow corn,-- She comes elate with light, elastic pace; Her neck and zone full-clustered vines adorn; Her saffron locks, fruit-crowned; her luscious grace; Her round and ripened form; her fair, benignant face. And now the fields, when suns serenely greet, A rich and mellow, wanton... Poems - Post by : khushee - Date : November 2011 - Author : W. M. Mackeracher - Read : 1006

Country Boy's Boast

And hath he not whereof he needs must sing? And hath he not whereof he well may boast?-- He from whose kin so many a one did spring To shape the mighty rocks that guard the coast Of History 'gainst Time, lest all be lost; And chiefly those who stamped the speaking page, Who bore the standard of Achievement's host In Fame's tenth legion, from the earliest age Till stately Vergil wrote, till Chelsea's Vulcan sage. Judea's royal, world-renowned bard Was... Poems - Post by : petine - Date : November 2011 - Author : W. M. Mackeracher - Read : 3501

Rain For The Farmer

If gently falls the small, soft, lazy rain, To indoor industries he shrewdly steals; And in the barn from some neglected grain The choking chaff the clattering fanner reels; Or in the shed the sapling ash he peels For handles for the fork with humor blithe, Or haply lards the tumbril's heavy wheels, Or of the harness oils the leather lithe, Or turns the tuneless stone and grinds the gleaming scythe. But now the sky is black; and now the Storm... Poems - Post by : TimShultz - Date : November 2011 - Author : W. M. Mackeracher - Read : 3099

Dominion Day (this Is The Day Whereon, Confederate)

This is the day whereon, confederate In union, was our national'ty born,-- A four-walled temple beautiful and great, Arising like the bringer of the morn, Now winged and buttressed, which the years adorn With pinnacles of fame. Long may it stand, Though realms be rent, states shattered, thrones uptorn! Long may Canadians grasp each other's hand, Defend their nation's rights, and love their fatherland!(The end)W. M. MacKeracher's poem: Dominion Day (This Is The Day Whereon, Confederate)... Poems - Post by : rphair - Date : November 2011 - Author : W. M. Mackeracher - Read : 1159

Death Of Sir John

What news to all alike brings startling sorrow? And he is dead, the vigorous chieftain dead? Nor e'en for him would death still brook to-morrow? No more shall followers vaunt and foemen dread; No more by him the hot debate be led; No more the lively tale, the clever jest Of him the State's most skilful, ablest head, Albeit not her sternest, not her best, But such is over now, then let his ashes rest. When all was anarchy, he seized the reins,... Poems - Post by : joelee - Date : November 2011 - Author : W. M. Mackeracher - Read : 1391

Evening In June

The purple lilac with the dark green leaves A subtle perfume spreads o'er fields wherein The meadow-lark with clear full singing cleaves The choral air. The rossignols begin A blither song the treacherous spiders spin Their shimmering webs. The robin o'er her young Chirps cheerfully, or starts the frighted din. Till the night oriole lights his lamp among The blooms of marigold and spotted adder's tongue.(The end)W. M. MacKeracher's poem: Evening In June... Poems - Post by : jjemarque - Date : November 2011 - Author : W. M. Mackeracher - Read : 1096

The Battle Of Chateauguay

There is a valley where the wheat fields wave In autumn like a gold ymolten sea; There is a river whose cool waters lave Sweet-scented gardens, groves, and rolling lea, And homes of people worthy to be free; There is a name whose sound is like a song On lips of its own maidens--Chateauguay; Yet mighty as the combat of the strong, And glorious as the march of Freedom over Wrong. And here they fought; and each encountered ten, With war-steed... Poems - Post by : spankonator - Date : November 2011 - Author : W. M. Mackeracher - Read : 2513

In May

Now is the time when swallows twitter round, And robin redbreasts carol in the trees, When the grass grows very green on lower ground, And opening buds embalm the buxom breeze, When orchards murmur with the half-blind bees, Freed till th' uncellared hives again be full, The time when old men smile and maidens please, Loose-zoned in summer dresses light and cool, And laughing urchins shirk the lessons of the school. Perchance it is the hour when dawn unveils The visage... Poems - Post by : gwynaedd - Date : November 2011 - Author : W. M. Mackeracher - Read : 2058

In The Sugar Bush

I halted at the margin of the wood, For tortuous was the path, and overhead Low branches hung, and roots and fragments rude Of rock hindered the tardy foot. I led My timid horse, that started at our tread And looked about on every side in fear, Until, arising from the jocund shed, The voice of laughter broke upon our ear, And through the chinks the light shone out as we drew near. I tied the bridle rain about a tree,... Poems - Post by : DonMartin-GA - Date : November 2011 - Author : W. M. Mackeracher - Read : 2144

Study In Solitude

'Tis true, in midst of all, there may arise For man's society a sudden thirst, A sense of hopeless vacancy which dries The spirit with a loneliness accurst, A longing irresistible to burst The branchy brake with other birds to sing, Or, as, from where in solemn shades immerst, The beetle comes to wanton on the wing Around my lamplight flame--alas! poor, foolish thing. But here thou may'st associate, though alone, With worthiest men, the best of every age, Through... Poems - Post by : PowerTeamLeader - Date : November 2011 - Author : W. M. Mackeracher - Read : 2188

A Walk In Mount Royal Park: Canadian Cities

Next morning in the Park I took a stroll. A walk upon Mount Royal is a thing, Glorious at any time, but most of all At early morning in the opening spring, While yet the snow-wreaths to the rock-shelves cling, And little streamlets lash the steaming side; While on the air the April breezes fling An appetizing vigor far and wide, And make the steep ascent a pleasure and a pride. The path ascends by stately Ravenscrag, And past the monument... Poems - Post by : jvgrago - Date : November 2011 - Author : W. M. Mackeracher - Read : 3457

Tim O'gallagher

My name is Tim O'Gallagher,--there's Oirish in that same; My parients from the Imerald Oisle beyant the ocean came; My father came from Donegal, my mother came from Clare; But oi was born in Pontiac, besoide the Belle Rivière. Oi spint my choildhood tamin' bears, and fellin' timber trays, And catchin' salmon tin fate long--and doin' what oi plaze. Oi got my iddication from the Riverind Father Blake; He taught me Latin grammar, and he after taught me Grake, Till oi could rade the classics in a distint sort of way-- 'Twas... Poems - Post by : drevis - Date : November 2011 - Author : W. M. Mackeracher - Read : 2244

The Wheel Of Misfortune

O m'sieu, doan you hask me ma story, doan hask me how dis was happenn;Dat's one beeg black hole on ma life, w'ere I doan want to look on some more.... Well, he's coom joos' so well for to tole you, all tak' beet tabac firs' and den A'll tole you what cep' to de pries' a have nevare tole no one before. Bien, M'sieu; he's come pass joos like dis way; a go out wit' de boys to make lark; Dare was Armand and Joseph and Louiee, an' we drink on de deefront saloon. An'... Poems - Post by : Sar_P - Date : November 2011 - Author : W. M. Mackeracher - Read : 1049

The Ideal Preacher

It was back in Renfrew County, near the Opeongo line, Where the land's all hills and hollows and the hills are clothed with pine, And in the wooded valleys little lakes shine here and there Like jewels in the masses of a lovely woman's hair; Where the York branch, by a channel ripped through rugged rocks and sand, Sweeps to join the Madawaska, speeding downward to the Grand; Where the landscape glows with beauty, like a halo shed abroad, And the face of nature mirrors back the unseen face of God. I was... Poems - Post by : Romell_Weekly - Date : November 2011 - Author : W. M. Mackeracher - Read : 1238

On Finding A Copy Of Burns's Poems In The House Of An Ontario Farmer

Large Book, with heavy covers worn and old, Bearing clear proof of usage and of years, Thine edges yellow with their faded gold, Thy leaves with fingers stained--perchance with tears; How oft thy venerable page has felt The hardened hands of honorable toil! How oft thy simple song had power to melt The hearts of the rude tillers of the soil! How oft has fancy borne them back to see The Scottish peasant at his work, and thou Hast made them... Poems - Post by : ksmytles - Date : November 2011 - Author : W. M. Mackeracher - Read : 1761

War-ships In Port

The tread of armèd mariners is in our streets to-day, An Empire's pulse is beating in the march of this array. From western woods, and Celtic hills, and homely Saxon shires, They sailed beneath the "meteor flag," the emblem of our sires; And for the glory that has been, the pride that yet may be, We hail them in the sacred names of home and liberty, And know that not on sea or land more dauntless hearts there are Than the hearts of these bold seamen from the English men-of-war. Trafalgar's fame-crowned hero... Poems - Post by : magdelen - Date : November 2011 - Author : W. M. Mackeracher - Read : 1914

The Gold-miners Of British Columbia

They come not from the sunny, sunny south, Nor from the Arctic region, Nor from the east, the busy, busy east, The where man's name is legion; But they come from the west, the rugged, rugged west, From the world's remotest edges; And their pockets they are filled with the yellow, yellow gold That they mined in the mountain ledges. CHORUS-- Then, hey, lads, hey, for the mining man so bold, Who comes... Poems - Post by : hiprofits4u - Date : November 2011 - Author : W. M. Mackeracher - Read : 2874

My Old Classical Master

Ever hail'd with delight when my memory strays O'er the various scenes of my juvenile days, Do you mind if I sing a poor song in your praise, My jolly old classical master? You were kind--over-lenient, 'twas rumor'd, to rule-- And so learn'd, though the blithest of all in the school, 'Twas your pupil's own fault if he left you a fool, My jolly old classical master. "Polumetis Odusseus" you brought back to... Poems - Post by : cyberagora - Date : November 2011 - Author : W. M. Mackeracher - Read : 2153

My Two Boys

To some the heavenly Father good Has given raiment rich and fine, And tables spread with dainty food, And jewels rare that brightly shine. To some He's given gold that buys Immunity from petty care, Freedom and leisure and the prize Of pleasing books and pictures fair. To some He's given wide domains And high estate and tranquil ease, And homes where all refinement reigns And everything combines to please. To some He's given minds to know... Poems - Post by : Ken_M. - Date : November 2011 - Author : W. M. Mackeracher - Read : 2447

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