Mrs Moody
When this country it was woody, Its great champion,
Mrs.
Moody, She showed she had both pluck and push, In her work, roughing in the bush. For there all alone she will dwell, At time
Kenzie did rebel, Outbreak her husband strove to quell — Her own grand struggles she doth tell. Round bush life she threw a glory, Pioneer renowned in story; But her tale it is more cheering When she wrote about the clearing. Her other sister,
Mrs.
Traill, Though eighty-six, she doth not fail; She now is writing of wild flowers Grown in Canada's woody bowers.
James McIntyre
Другие работы автора
Ensilage
The farmers now should all adornA few fields with sweet southern corn, It is luscious, thick and tall, The beauty of the fields in fall For it doth make best ensilage,
Prophecy of a Ten Ton Cheese
In presenting this delicate, dainty morsel to the imagination of the people, I believed that it could be realized I viewed the machine that turned and raised the mamoth cheese, and saw the powerful machine invented by James Ireland at th...
Irish Poets Oliver Goldsmith
Goldsmith wrote Deserted Village, Now again reduced to tillage; Once happiest village of the plain, Place now you look for it in vain; There but one man he doth make rich, And hundreds struggle in the ditch; Ill fare the land to many ills a ...
English Poets Shelley
We have scarcely time to tell thee Of the strange and gifted Shelley, Kind hearted man, but ill-fated, So youthful drowned and cremated