Poems by Robert McIntyre

Thro' the garden at morn, in cool emerald gloom,
Wends the sad woman, leaving her lost Savior...

When the gold is on the willow, and the purple on the brier,
Not hoary hair or heavy care can ...

O Cañ on of Las Animas!
Within thy porphyry portals dim,
I tread thy gloomy gorge; I pa...

God is good to let us keep in mind the pictures of the past;
And sometimes in the summer, when...

On Christmas Eve, in this dim room,
There drifts across the deepening gloom
The faint, old f...

The old Zion Church, on the old country road,
Encircled with wagons when each brought a load
...

The Palm is the king of the lands of the sun,
And his touseled plumes are tossed
Where the wil...

O Christmas Day!
O Babe, who in the manger lay,
Once more thy star its splendor spills
Acros...

When Day cometh over the dim mountain tops,
She seeth, far down in the enchanted copse,
Her ...

Heaven send us a prophet with wit to teach
Our race, which to folly so fondly clings,
That al...

They are calling "knee deep! Knee deep!" tonight in the marsh below,
Down by the bank, where t...

Beyond the farthest bourne of Dan
O'er lands where Heaven has laid its ban,
Like a spent snake...

It is told of Angelo, that once he came
Into the lowly cottage of a friend,
And found it empt...

Upon the hallowed ground of Galilee, O John,
Thy Master writeth, while the wolfish crowd
Ben...

The dawn of Easter morning! O the sad, sweet day,
When thro' the laughing lilies loving Mary w...