Poetry of and about Niagara Falls & the Niagara River – the waterfalls, the city, the history, the stunters, and everything else Niagara
There was a young lady named Carol Who found herself in a big barrel. It went over the Falls Amid many loud calls.... There ONCE was a lady named Carol
Source: Laroque, Corey. Here’s What the Poets are Saying. Niagara Falls, Ont.: Niagara Falls Review, November 21, 2009
This limerick was entered into the So You Think You Can Rhyme (2009) Limerick Contest to find Niagara Falls’ Poet Laureate
Go to the Limericks page
Our neighbours in a score of states,
Being more or less united,
Determined to come over here,
Not especially invited.
Having the job made up some how
With Napoleon the Great,
That he should make the Russian bow
While they of Canada would make a state.
Our ancestors a boon secured—
The freedom of each station ;
From trials that they then endured
Was born our present nation.
Year about eighteen twelve ;
Forget them shall we never ;
In memory's pages they still shall live
Till death our lives shall sever.
In all those years, '13, the most
Of fighting here was done,
And in '13, June 24th,
The grandest victory won.
April's days were nearly o'er
When Toronto was laid low ;
May had counted one month more
When in Niagara was the foe.
The militia were disbanded —
No more fighting to be done —
O'er every farmer's mantlepiece
A musket up was hung.
When the leafy month of June,
When foliage clothed the beech,
The folly of invasions,
Indians and militia teach.
Two Indian braves by Boerstler slain,
Made their station at the Ten,
Determined to fill up new graves
With twice as many men.
The farmer viewed his meadow land,
Now ready for the scythe ;
"To-morrow I this grass will cut,
If tomorrow I'm alive."
Scarce finished was his ramble,
Walking slowly to his meal,
He hears the note of warlike spoil
By the Indian in his zeal.
To-day he knew he'd other work ;
Scarce touched his morning meal,
But, taking down his trusty gun,
He towards the fore did steal.
The Beechwoods spread with ample shade
Cast over all a sombre hue.
Whose sturdy trunks assist to aid
To keep our men from view.
Those who lived near arrived the first
The foe to hold at bay
Until were gathered to the field
Those who further lived away.
Soon cannon from the mountain brow
Boom on the calm, still air,
And to engage in battle
Militia far and near repair.
The regulars had heard alarms
The horseman were on time
To take the leader's sword and arms
And guard them to our line.
A victory small, and won like this
By the farmers of the Ten,
Had more effect to keep the peace
Than an army of fighting men.
But, as the seasons come and go,
Never that long day of June
Shall be blotted from our memory,
Our harvest work as soon.
Source: Thorold Post, June 8, 1894, p. 6
Read about the Battle of Beaverdams
Fought 25th July, 1814
Upon this hill where now we gently tread,
’Mid graves and stones—memorials of the dead,
Where greenest turf and sweetest flowerets smile,
And whispering leaves to sacred thoughts beguile—
Where gathering free, with none to break our peace,
From meaner thoughts we claim a short surcease.
We pause, and list to awful memories far
When from this height boomed forth the roar of war.
Soft contrast this to that fierce day and night,
When surge of battle hither rolled in might ;
When shot and shell ploughed all the trampled ground,
And wounded, dead, and dying dropped around.
Pharsalia, not upon thy dreadful plain
Lay in more frequent heaps the gory slain !
But, O proud contrast ! there Ambition fought,
And personal ends the conquering Cæsar sought ;
But here, ’twas Patriotism fired the fight,
And Drummond struck to save our dearest right.—
Drummond, whose name still lives in proud Quebec,
Shall saved Niagara’s foot be on thy neck ?
Can Lundy’s Lane untrue to Drummond live,
Or grudge thy memory all she had to give ?—
Thy right, O Canada, thy Drummond sought,
And from high justice all his valour caught.
He traversed not another’s right To Be,
But sternly guarded thy sweet liberty.
What asks the patriot more? He knows but this—
His country and her welfare very his.
Her honour his, her greatness all his care ;
Quick to defend, her woes his willing share ;
Her name his pride, her future but his own ;
Each word and deed, seed for her harvest sown.
What asks the patriot more? For her to live,
Or gladly for her life his own to give.
Such were thy sons, O Canada, that fought for thee,
Sprung from the boundless West, or utmost sea.
Such are thy sons to-day—the same their sires—
Or French or British quick with loyal fires.
Here on this holy hill their bodies lie
As thick as stars that stud the winter sky.
Here on this hill baptized indeed with fire,
As from an altar may their flames aspire.
O Canada ! Thou of the seven-fold bond ;
Let evermore such sons in thee be found ;
Let evermore thy sons thy guardians be,
High-souled and pure, CONTENT IF THOU BE FREE.
S.A.C.
21st July, 1889
Source: The Dominion Illustrated, vol. III, No. 59, August 17, 1889
The poem was signed S.A.C. S.A.C. was likely Sarah Anne Curzon
Why calls the bastion forth the patriot’s sigh,
And starts the tear from beauty’s swelling eye?
Within its breach intrepid Brock is laid,
A tomb according with the mighty dead;
Whose soul devoted to his country’s cause,
In deeds of glory sought his first applause;
Enrolled with Abercrombie, Wolfe and Moore,
No lapse of time his merits shall obscure;
Fresh shall they burn in each Canadian heart,
And all their pure and living fires impart;
A youthful friend rests by his hero’s side,
Their mutual love Death sought not to divide;
The muse that gives her Brock to deathless fame
Shall in the wreath entwine Macdonell’s name.
Source: Janet Carnochan. History of Niagara (in part). Toronto: William Briggs, 1904
Carnochan writes: James Strachan, the brother of Bishop Strachan, in 1819 wrote a sonnet on Fort George, then the burial-place of General Brock and his Adjutant, Macdonnell.
Read the poem Niagara Falls by John Robert Colombo, a found poem from the unpublished writings of Bishop John Strachan
Brock, Macdonell, and Brock’s horse Alfred were all killed at the Battle of Queenston Heights, shortly after the time depicted in the painting. All three were first buried in one of the bastions at Fort George. Brock and Macdonell were later buried in the base of Brock’s Monument at Queenston Heights.
is the rush of gravity
is the impulse of water*
is the pull of a mother… child
is the everlasting light of the sun
is the building of power
is the electricity of ages
is the reflection of rainbows
is the promise of peace
is the waking of a dream
is the shift of river
to fall.
From Margaret Simon:
For Fall break, my husband and I visited Niagara Falls. This trip was a bucket list item for me. The Falls did not disappoint. They are an amazing feat of nature, the kind that cannot be captured in a photo or video. You have to be there to hear the sounds of hundreds of thousands of gallons of water falling each second. I took a lot of pictures, but when I look at them now, they pale in comparison to the real live event. I’m so happy we did this trip. I highly recommend it. If you are planning to go, let me know. I have suggestions.
This morning’s (October 18, 2023) Poem-a-Day from the Academy of American Poets was by Emily Lee Luan The warble of melting snow is the river. I borrowed her form for my own poem. I find that using a form helps me get out of my head and allowing creativity to do its magic.
Margaret Simon is a Mississippi native who married into a Louisiana life. She lives on the Bayou Teche in New Iberia, Louisiana with her husband, Jeff. Their now empty nest once housed three daughters, Maggie, Katherine, and Martha. Margaret has been an elementary school teacher for 31 years, most recently teaching gifted students in Iberia Parish. She has published poems in the journal The Aurorean, anthologies for Today’s Little Ditty, in Poetry Friday Power Book Here We Go, and in National Geographic’s the Poetry of US. Border Press published her collection of poems with her father’s Christmas card art, Illuminate in fall of 2013. Blessen, a novel for young readers, was published in April 2012, also by Border Press. In 2018, UL Press published her first book of children’s poetry, Bayou Song: Creative Explorations of the South Louisiana Landscape. In her teaching profession, she has a Masters degree in Gifted Education and certification by the National Boards for Professional Teaching Standards. Margaret writes a blog regularly at http://reflectionsontheteche.com.