Poems by James McIntyre | Poetree

All Poems Original Poems Translations

« ‹ 1 2

Prophecy of a Ten Ton Cheese

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 the West Oxford companies factory to turn the great and fine cheese he was making there. This company with but little assistance could produce a ten ton cheese.

Who hath prophetic vision sees

In future times a ten ton cheese,

Several companies could join

To furnish curd for great combine

More honor far than making gun

Of mighty size and many a ton.

Machine it could be made with ease

1

0

Fertile Lands and Mammoth Cheese

Fertile Lands and Mammoth Cheese

In barren district you may meet

Small fertile spot doth grow fine wheat,

There you may find the choicest fruits,

And great, round, smooth and solid roots.

But in conditions such as these

You cannot make a mammoth cheese,

Which will weigh eight thousand pounds,

But where large fertile farms abounds.

2

0

Ode on the Mammoth Cheese

Ode on the Mammoth Cheese

We have seen the Queen of cheese,

Laying quietly at your ease,

Gently fanned by evening breeze —

Thy fair form no flies dare seize.

All gaily dressed soon you'll go

To the great Provincial Show,

To be admired by many a beau

In the city of Toronto.

1

0

Irish Poets: Oliver Goldsmith

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 prey

Where wealth accumelates but men decay."

0

0

American Poets: Longfellow

American Poets: Longfellow

Like fruit that's large and ripe and mellow,

Sweet and luscious is Longfellow,

Melodious songs he oft did pour,

And high was his Excelsior.

He shows us in his psalm of life

The folly of our selfish strife;

With Hiawatha we bewail

His suffering in great Indian tale;

1

0