Results for ‘POEMS’
Oh, sweet is the hush in the pine tree boughs
And sweet is the breath of the night,
When the earth quiet lies
And the grass waves and sighs,
We are waiting the beautiful moon!
Oh, low moans the dove in the pine tree boughs,
And low moans his mate on her nest,
While the wind whispers low
And the soft waters flow
In the sheen of the pale. Tender moon.
Oh clear shines the light on the pine tree boughs!
Oh, clear shines the light of the moon!
When the clouds softly lie
On the bright eastern sky.
They are bathed in the gleam of the moon.
Oh, dark wave the tops of the pine tree boughs!
Oh, dark wave their tops ‘gainst the sky!
While the earth and the sky
And the soft waters lie
In the light of the beautiful moon.
Helen E. Harrison in Ladies’Home Journal
Welland Telegraph March 1900
[Welland Tribune and Telegraph, 4 January 1921]
In memory of Oliver Gordon Dalrymple, who was killed in action in France, on November 3, 1916.
“Killed in action!” flashed across
The deep and dark blue sea.
Somewhere in France he fought and fell,
Upholding gloriously.
The honor of the dear old flag
The sacrifice he bore
For the love of British justice,
And the freedom we adore.
“Killed in action!” Oh, the words
Sink deep in every heart;
Beloved by all, a kindly youth
He played a strong man’s part;
And when the call of duty came,
He faced the world-wide strife,
For human liberty in him
Was dearer far than life.
“Killed in action!” Breathe the words
As softly as you can:
A loved one sleeps beyond the sea
Disturb not such a man;
But press his memory to your hearts,
And as the years roll by,
Remember him as living, for
A hero cannot die.
[The Welland Tribune and Telegraph, 4 January 1921]
See Poems of James A. Ross in Tales-Poems
McClelland & Stewart, of Toronto, have recently issued a volume of verse from the pen of James A. Ross, of Wellandport, and it is so rarely that one in the Niagara Peninsula essays a book that the event is worthy of mention. Mr. Ross’ verse, of course is not unknown to our readers, for not a few of the items in the present volume have already appeared in the daily press and some in our own paper.
The publishers’ note well describe their significance and purport.
“These verses will strike responsive chords in many hearts. They have the simple, “homey” quality that has made the names of Whitcomb Riley and Eugene Field so dear to many readers-yet they are peculiarly and distinctively Canadian.”
“Here are tender memories of the Old Home Town, the Clover Field, the Old Mill Pond; fond recollections of friends and scenes of youth; philosophy that is none the less sane and practical for being simply expressed; patriotic verse that inspires to higher ideals of citizenship; and feeling tributes to noble Canadian manhood sacrificed on the altar of Liberty.”’
The collection, some four score numbers, are divided as follows: Patriotic Verse, Songs of Songs of Sentiment, Songs of the Seasons, Memorial Verse, Philosophy in Rhyme, Songs of Recollection and Songs of Special Occasion.
The author confesses in a prefatory note that his verses are homely; well so are those of James Whitcomb Riley and Riley has meant more to the heart of the world than Robert Bridges.
BY James A. Ross
Picture-Harold Arthur Fox 1916
[Welland Tribune and Telegraph, 4 January 1921]
As time flies by my mind goes back
To scenes of boyhood days,
The games we played, the songs we sang,
The joy of childish ways;
The shows that struck the little town
That nestled by the stream,
The squirrels we chased, the fish we caught,
Are memories like a dream;
But the dearest old-time picture
No matter where I rove
Is mother baking buckwheat cakes
On the old black kitchen stove.
The boys who played beside the brook
Some made their mark in life,
And some have crossed to spirit-land
Beyond all earthly strife.
The little sweetheart that I loved
In memory still is dear,
The old school house is yet a charm
More precious year by year;
But the dearest old time picture
No matter where I rove
Is mother baking buckwheat cakes
On the old black kitchen stove.
The years roll by and one by one
They leave their mark on me,
The hair a little whiter grows,
The step not quite so free;
But still my heart is just as young
As many years ago,
Fond memories of childhood days
Will help to keep it so;
But the dearest old time picture
No matter where I rove
Is mother baking buckwheat cakes
On the old black kitchen stove.
I hear the music of the crow
In yonder swinging pine,
The melody is somewhat crude.
But still Spring’s welcome sign;
The fat and perky robin sings
From early morn till night;
The blackbird in the willow pours
A song of rare delight;
The perch and bass are calling me
To seek a sunny nook–
I’ll take my pipe and fishing-rod
And steal down to the brook.
How sweet the sun is shining now,
Spring’s blue is in the air,
The flowers just touch the velvet green,
In clusters here and there;
There’s beauty rare in every leaf
That whispers in the breeze,
And something magic in the life
That wakens in the trees
The perch and bass are calling me
To seek a sunny nook–
I’ll take my pipe and fishing-rod,
And steal down to the brook.
Canada First and Other Poems
1920 Canada First and Other Poems By James A. Ross
Welcome again thou glorious season,
Quick following Spring’s decay,
With breezes light and flowers so bright,
To cheer us on our way.
You spread your beauties all around,
The Earth, the Air, the Seas,
The birds sweet song, it echoes long
Amid the swaying trees.
Oh, gently zephyrs of the South!
That fan the fragrant flowers,
How light you play throughout the day,
Among the shady bowers.
How grand the fields of golden grain,
Beneath the summer skies,
With waving motion, like rolling ocean,
The tall stalks fall and rise.
We view the sun at summer eve,
The day well nigh passed by;
Its golden light so wondrous bright,
Illumes the western sky.
Thou richest season of the year,
Thy praise we’ll ever sing;
To you we know, much do we owe,
Who all these beauties bring.
Canada First and Other Poems
1920 Canada First and Other Poems By James A. Ross
The bumble bees are buzzin’ all around the dandelion,
And the blackbirds through the sky blue are here and there a-flyin’;
The grass is growin’ fresh and green and the lilacs peekin’ out,
And the smell of Spring is in the air and everywhere about;
The crows are sittin’ on the fence and loudly cryin’, “Caw!”
And seems to me it’s fishin’ time in the dear old Chippewa.
The sleepy pussy willows are a swayin’ in the breeze;
A hundred gladsome sing birds are all singin’ in the trees;
The bull-frog joins the chorus with his Springtime melody,
And the balmy air is full of light as far as eye can see;
The women-folk are cleanin’ house–I hear their loud hurrah;
And seems to me it’s fishin’ time in the dear old Chippewa.
Canada First and Other Poems
1920 Canada First and Other Poems By James A. Ross
June days are dream days,
Blue skies all aglow;
Song-birds are crooning mysterious lays,
Romanies come and go.
June days are dream days,
All of the muses know;
Sunbeams are dancing with shimmering rays,
Wherever streamlets flow.
June days are dream days,
Visions of long ago;
Roses are blooming in all sunny ways,
Lovers are whispering low,
June days are dream days,
Memories tell me so;
Spirit of love-time in sweet summer haze,
Wherever roses grow.
Canada First and Other Poems
1920 Canada First and Other Poems By James A. Ross
When the Sun is winking early
In the gray dawn of the East;
And shines all day in his sleepy way,
His warming rays increased;
When the musk-rat haunts the marshes
All along the silver stream,
And the black-bird’s glee, rings out “ch-wee”
A song like a golden dream;
‘Tis then the pulse of days long gone
Beats strong in every vein,
For the lure of Spring has a captive ring,
And we are young again.
When the velvet grass is sprinkled
With the dandelion’s gold;
And the bumble-bees, “neath the willow trees,
Are growing very bold;
When the chubs and red-fins gambol
Up and down the old mill race,
And the butterflies and the dreamy skies,
Are smiles on Nature’s face;
‘Tis then the memories come once more,
But Time should not complain,
For the lure of Spring has a captive ring,
And we are young again.
Canada First and Other Poems
1920 Canada First and Other Poems By James A. Ross
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