The ancient poets ne’er did dream That Canada was land of cream, They ne’er imagined it could flow In this cold land of ice and snow, Where everything did solid freeze,

I laid me down one day in June; It was late—long after noon— A very sultry summer’s eve, Such times the senses oft deceive. The place was ‘neath a maple tree,

My dear friend Gunn, May you prize won, But to us hark When you shoot mark, High you must aim

Lines written when the Prince of… was about embarking for Canada, M… In his long voyage o’er the sea, To where doth grow the maple tree, May he be blest with pleasant gale…

Lines delivered at housewarming of… Your pastor’s fame first got abroa… By his success on Culloden Road ; He filled the church so that the f… No longer it the flock would hold.

Are you a mason? No ; I prefer To work at the trad… Are you then an Oddfellow? No ; I married Annabella. Are you a Son of Temperance?

In the year 1843 we were, though b… Cawdor Castle. Readers of Shakes… have often found Cawdor mentioned… of Cawdor is but a few miles from… we were there the old Highland peo…

‘O for a Lodge in some vast wilde… A man cryed 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

Addressed to Jonathan Wingle, Es… In summer time we roam o’er dingle… But winter draws us round the ingl… Why do you remain thus single, When love would make two hearts ti…

Lines on the North of Scotland, d… quarter of a century ago: Scotsmen have wandered far and wid… From Moray Frith to Frith of Cly… McDonald, from his sea girt isle,

When this country it was woody, Its great champion, Mrs. Moody, She showed she had both pluck and… In her work, roughing in the bush. For there all alone she will dwell…

Some thirty years ago, in conversa… captain who had visited or voyaged… globe, he was denouncing fiercely… costermonger times. He said there… town library which was a tissue of…

It is folly now to aim Or to seek for distant fame, But rest content if we can claim Something of a local name Oh the pleasant banks of Thame,

A great enchanter too is Poe, His bells do so harmonious flow ; Wondrous mystery of his raven On our minds is ere engraven ; His weird, mysterious romances

When the great Bulwer’s pen did t… The history of the coming race His hero to us he hath unfurled The glories of his new found world… This bold traveller be did venture