London Flood, July 11th, 1883.
By James McIntyre
From the long continuous rains
O'erflowing were the swamps and drains,
For each day had its heavy shower,
Torrents fell for many an hour;
At London where two branches join
It seem'd two furies did combine,
For to spread far both death and woe,
With their wild, raging overflow;
E'en houses did on waters float,
As though each had been built for boat,
And where was wealth and joy and bloom,
Soon naught but inmates of the tomb;
Flood o'erflowed both vale and ridges,
And swept railroads, dams and bridges,
A mother climbed in tree to save
Her infant from a watery grave,
But on the house you saw its blood
Where it was crushed 'gainst tree by flood;
Where cottages 'mong gardens stood
'Tis covered o'er with vile drift wood,
O'er flowers and bushes you may travel
For they are buried under gravel,
Or you may walk o'er barren sand,
The crops washed out and fertile land;
Two funerals we at once did see
Of one family who lost three;
No longer river's deep and wide
But gently flows to distant tide.