Poems by Isaac McLellan

Poems by Isaac McLellan

Wolf, by Isaac McLellan

In winter, when the snows lie deep
In shapeless hillock, drifted heap;
When thick the hollow...

Rabbit, by Isaac McLellan

'Tis a fair haunt, a lovely scene
With vale and stream and woods between!
Yonder across the up...

Rhinoceros Hunting, by Isaac McLellan

For days the hunter march'd o'er wooded hills
And mountain ranges, frowning like great forts

The Sand-Hill Crane and Other Wild Fowl of Mexico, by Isaac McLellan

Here in this genial Mexic land,
Where soft is breeze and bright the skies,
Gay summer in Dece...

The Scenery and Game of Wyoming Territory, by Isaac McLellan

Twilight silently, softly falls,
Touching valley and grove with misty wand,
Kissing the sky ...

Sea-Gull, by Isaac McLellan

Sea-Bird, skimmer of the waves,
Whither doth thy journey tend?
Is it to some southern shore, ...

The Shark, by Isaac McLellan

The seaboy sailing o'er the main,
Far-gazing o'er the watery plain,
Sees oft the black fin of...

Squirrels, by Isaac McLellan

When soft May breezes fan th' awaking woods,
ANd with her fairy wand the blue-ey'd Spring

Speckled Bass at Lake Pepin, Minn., by Isaac McLellan

It is a fair, pellucid lake,
With towering bluffs encompass'd round,
Heavy with woods of fir...

Summer Twilight, by Isaac McLellan

The tender Twilight with a crimson cheek
Leans on the breast of Eve. The wayward Wind
Hath fold...

Winter Sports, by Isaac McLellan

Slow sinks the golden sun behind the woods,
The shivering woods of winter. The red flush,

Wild Horse of the Prairies, by Isaac McLellan

For other scenes their lights expand,
Out in the savage western land,
Where wildernesses lone...

Wild Pigeon, by Isaac McLellan

The autumn day is fleck'd with gold,
As slow the twilight sun declines;
The western cloud's e...

Watching for Deer, by Isaac McLellan

Out in the woodlands all alone,
Out in the forests dim and drear,
I lay with rifle at my side...

Tiger Hunting in India with Elephants, by Isaac McLellan

We cross'd a brawling mountain torrent, far
From our Indian camp. The red, angry glare
Of cri...