p s . 
 
 3515 
 
 Poems 
 
 West 
 
Class _i-S___ 
 Book-iZ.^ 
 Copyright ]^"- 
 
 i^il 
 
 COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 
 
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 e: 
 
 The West to the East Gives Greeting 
 
POEMS OF THE WEST 
 
 S. GERTSMON 
 
 RICHARD G. BADGER 
 
 THE GORHAM PRESS 
 BOSTON, MASS. 
 
Copyright 1912 by S. Gertsmon 
 All Rights Reserved 
 
 
 The Gorham Press, Boston, U. S, A, 
 
 CC!.A314454 
 
:i 
 
 lO 1113^ beloved wife, the source of all 
 
 my ambitions, I dedicate 
 
 this book. 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The West to the East gives 
 
 Greeting Frontispiece ^ 
 
 Again He Heard the Church Bells Chime ... 13 <^ 
 
 Of River, Mountain and Valley \1 ^ 
 
 On Came the Torrent, Resistless, Grim 
 Visaged, Sounding the Knell to the 
 
 Indian Race 21 i/" 
 
 How like Grim Sentinels they stand 25 (/* 
 
 All Hail to the City of Roses 29 i/ 
 
 With Light Hand and Heart He Loosens 
 
 His Seines 33^' 
 
 Tell Me, I Pray You, Your Secrets 37 
 
 Grasping the Wheel the Pilot Stands Gazing 41>/ 
 
 Steady of Eye, Steady of Nerve 45^ 
 
 Her Snow White Sails to the Winds 
 
 Unfurled 49 "^ 
 
 His Lonely Night Vigil Keep 53 
 
 With Shovel and Pick He Roams the Wilds ol'y 
 
 With Hand Upon Plow, Lightly Resting 61 ^ 
 
 The Hoof -Beats are Music to the Cow- 
 Puncher's Ears.- 05 
 
 The Mighty Forest in Sombre Silence 69 ^^ 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Greeting 11 
 
 The Pioneer's Reverie 12 
 
 From the Heigthts 16 
 
 The Passing of the Red Man 20 
 
 The Peaks 24 
 
 The City of Roses 28 
 
 Toilers of the Sea 32 
 
 The Gorge 36 
 
 The Pilot 40 
 
 Builders of the Air 44 
 
 The Voyage 48 
 
 The Sheepherder 51 
 
 The Prospector 55 
 
 The Plowman 59 
 
 The Round Up 63 
 
 The Forest 67 
 
POEMS OF THE WEST 
 
GREETING 
 
 THE WEST to the East gives greeting, 
 and opens the portals wide, 
 To her sister from over the mountains 
 she sends a welcome for her to abide — 
 In the land of nature's splendor and 
 with her enjoy the gifts. 
 The hand of God hath showered, and where his 
 works man's soul uplifts. 
 
 Here in the land of plenty, in the land of the 
 
 setting sun, 
 Where the balmy winds blow softly, and winter's 
 
 blasts are none, 
 Where the rose's bloom and fragrance fill the air 
 
 with sweet perfume, 
 And the grandeur of creation blend in infinite 
 
 attune. 
 
 West, oh land of promise, where rails and water 
 
 meet. 
 Where the fertile land gives freely of all that is 
 
 rich and sweet. 
 All hail, oh Western Empire, sublimely grand in 
 
 lore, 
 The world shall pay thee homage, when they have 
 
 known thee more. 
 
 The West to the East gives greeting, and to all 
 
 the world beside. 
 She of matchless beauty, the nation's wealth and 
 
 pride — 
 Throws her gates wide open, let enter all who may. 
 Into the land of plenty where the works of God 
 
 hold sway. 
 
 11 
 
THE PIONEER'S REVERIE 
 
 THE WEST owes all that it is or ever hopes to be, 
 to the hardy pioneer who risked death in many 
 forms in his efforts to discover a new empire. 
 Having performed his task and wresting a home 
 from nature, he would often at the close of his event- 
 ful life gaze contemplatingly about him, and dream, 
 and dream. 
 
 The pioneer stood gazing from his home in the 
 
 Golden West, 
 On that which his sturdy hand had sown, and 
 
 God had abmidantly blest; 
 Wheat and rye a-plenty the land with which to 
 
 feed, 
 The earth to give her bounty, where before was 
 
 only weed. 
 
 He gazed upon the mountain, and he gazed upon 
 
 the vale; 
 And thought of the days when he was young, 
 
 of the days when he was hale; 
 Again the call of the West came echoing to his 
 
 ears, 
 It brought new life to his chilled old heart, to his 
 
 eyes it brought the tears. 
 
 E'en while he sat in thought lost deep, his grizzled 
 
 locks the sunset kissed. 
 His snow-white hair, his bent old frame 'twas 
 
 plain to see no hardship missed. 
 Once more he heard the church bells chime in his 
 
 old New England home; 
 And with the turning back of time, he found 
 
 himself about to roam. 
 12 
 
Again He Heard the Church Bells Chime 
 
He had left his home, had left his friends, had cast 
 
 his lot with the new-found West; 
 Had braved the plains and desert drear, 'twas 
 
 now his turn to sit and rest. 
 His mighty arm had blazed the trail for those 
 
 who after him might come; 
 His ax of steel had hewn a path, amidst the wilds 
 
 had won a home. 
 
 He came, he conquered. Need more be said? A 
 
 Western empire did he unfold; 
 From out of chaos a change he wrought, his fields 
 
 were many with grains of gold. 
 And though the path with hardships strewn, and 
 
 full of thorns the way. 
 Yet paused he not to count the cost, nor from his 
 
 purpose turned astray. 
 
 All hail to thee, O pioneer! To you we owe all we 
 
 behold; 
 The lowing kine, the waving grain, the thriving 
 
 cities with wealth untold. 
 And when at last the great call comes, and you 
 
 shall take your w^ell-earned rest. 
 We'll hold thy name and mem'ry dear, O pioneer 
 
 of the West, 
 
 15 
 
FROM THE HEIGHTS 
 
 STANDING on the top of ''Council Crest/' 
 on the height:^ lying west of the citj/ of Portland, 
 Oregon, one cannot help but become inspired 
 by the beantiful panorama that meets the eye. Below 
 at one's feet lies the city teeming with life; to the 
 north and east runs the magnificent Columbia, 
 winding in and out of the hills. Far away 
 to the east, stands Mt. Hood like some sentinel 
 keeping guard, as he has for centuries past, while 
 in due succession to the north are the Three Sisters, 
 and Mt. Ranier. Gazing upon this awe-inspiring 
 picture, one forgets himself and is lost in wonder. 
 
 From the heights I gaze and wonder, at the scene 
 
 spread out below; 
 Of river, mountain, and valley turned to gold in 
 
 sunset's glow. 
 I gaze entranced, enraptured, at the beautv of it 
 
 all; 
 While the grandeur of creation seems my being to 
 
 enthral. 
 
 What use of temples and churches? What use of 
 
 prayers and hymns.^ 
 Here with my God, the Creator, I stand while 
 
 His glory teems; 
 All around, about me, and I soar to ethereal realms 
 And there am lost, and speechless, while fancy 
 
 my soul o'erwhelms. 
 
 Far above the city's noises, its bustle, dust and 
 
 din; 
 In peaceful contemplation I gather strength of 
 
 spirit from within. 
 
 16 
 
Of River, Mountain and Valley 
 
x\nd my soul in holy communion blends divinely, 
 
 grand, sublime 
 As I gaze in growing wonder at the infinity of 
 
 time. 
 
 Then, let my voice resounding, sing the praises 
 
 which I feel; 
 And let the whole world listen; and let o'er its 
 
 senses steal 
 The greatness of nature's beauty, let them stand 
 
 with me. 
 On the top-most heights and wonder at God's 
 
 infinitv. 
 
 19 
 
THE PASSING OF THE RED MAN 
 
 OA^^ of the pathetic features of the stride of 
 cirilization in this country is the rapid ex- 
 tinction of the Indian — he irho was once lord 
 and master of all this great domain. With ivhat 
 emotion this stoic red man watches the fast exter- 
 mination of his race, with ivhat bitterness he recog- 
 nizes the superiority of the white man, and reluctantly 
 takes on his modes and customs, I leave to the 
 reader^ s conjecture. 
 
 When this land was young and its children great, 
 
 and no cloud obscured their clear-blue sky, 
 When they worshipped their gods in their own, 
 
 crude way, but always the one on high. 
 Whether sun or moon, or shining star, their faith 
 
 was all the same. 
 Their simple hearts, and simpler minds with fervor 
 
 became aflame. 
 
 Deceit they knew not. With childish trust they 
 
 met the whites with outstretched hand, 
 They bade them welcome to their board, and 
 
 made them welcome throughout the land. 
 But they knew not the guile of the Spaniard's 
 
 mind, until it was too late; 
 Then in sudden wrath at their treacherous friend, 
 
 the love was turned to hate. 
 
 On sped the years, a great change came, the land 
 
 with strangers o'errun. 
 While they who fought, who bled and died, by 
 
 cruel foe were hounded on. 
 20 
 
/■ 
 
 
 i 
 
 Ox Came the Torrext, Resistless, Grim Visaged, 
 souxdixg the kxell to the ixdian 
 Race 
 
Driven from that which was theirs by right, 
 
 theirs by justice of Heav'n above. 
 Hard pressed they left their native hearths, while 
 
 heart-rending cries the night air clove. 
 
 Westward their course with hope renewed, follow- 
 ing the sun while within their hearts, 
 
 A new born hope of a future home, goaded them 
 on as with arrow darts. 
 
 Till at last they reached the boundless West, and 
 pitched their tents on hill and vale. 
 
 Gave thanks to the gods for their warriors brave, 
 their loving wives and children frail. 
 
 Here in their haunts they roamed the wilds, and 
 
 lived their lives in tranquil mood. 
 Fought their fights in open field, in fair- won battles 
 
 their foes subdued. 
 E'en while these tribes in Western climes lived on 
 
 and thought themselves secure, 
 They knew not the peril that o'er them hung, nor 
 
 dreamt of the hardships they were to endure. 
 
 On came the torrent, resistless, grim-visaged, 
 
 sounding a knell to the Indian race, 
 Civilization stalked on in its vantage, undaunted 
 
 and fearless in its terrific pace. 
 Thus in their fury and anguish they battled, 
 
 fought for a cause that forever was lost. 
 Kept up the wars till all hopes were shattered, 
 
 and bought their existence at terrible cost. 
 
 23 
 
THE PEAKS 
 
 "M^ANY moons ago/' so runs an Indian legend, 
 lyl^'ihe gods having become incensed at the 
 tribes living in the vicinity of Mts. Hood, St. 
 Helens, and Ranier; and because oj their incessant 
 wars, threw up these enormous barriers to act as 
 sentinels. And,'' continues the legend, ''did any 
 of the gods wish to vent their wrath upon the offend- 
 ing tribes, they would cause the mountains to belch 
 forth fire and brimstone." 
 
 How like grim sentinels they stand, the mountain 
 
 peaks sublime and grand, 
 Towering their summits of ice and snow, 'bove 
 
 river and valley far below. 
 Lifting their heads beyond the clouds, hiding the 
 
 sun 'neath their snow-white crests, 
 Gazing in scorn on hill and on dale, mirroring 
 
 moon's rays from their pure, spotless breasts. 
 
 Ages may come, ages may go. Peoples and 
 nations cut down in their prime. 
 
 Yet through it all these mountains shall stand, an 
 enblem of grandeur of infinite time. 
 
 And he who in reverence stands gazing spell- 
 bound, with awe-inspiring, bated breath. 
 
 With head uncovered, uttering no sound, thinks 
 of the life that lives after death. 
 
 Their beauty and splendor o'erwhelm him quite, 
 
 and cause his thoughts to soar, 
 To the utmost heights of the mountain top, as 
 
 so many have before. 
 
 24 
 
How Like Grim Sentinels They Stand 
 
There he may stand and drink his fill of that 
 
 which the soul inspires, 
 Of a scene sublime while its greatness, the mind 
 
 as with rare wine fires. 
 
 Then why rave of the pyramids of Egypt, of Italy's 
 
 catacombs? 
 They the mere handwork of mankind, built with 
 
 man's blood and bones. 
 While He, who these mountains created, and 
 
 placed them in sight of all. 
 Placed them for men His works to behold, their 
 
 minds and hearts enthrall. 
 
 27 
 
THE CITY OF ROSES 
 
 PORTLAXD, Oregon, known throughout the 
 world as the city of roses, has given over the first 
 part of the month of June for an annual cele- 
 bration — the rose festival. Here gather visitors from 
 places ivherever the city of Portland is known, to 
 pay homage to the siveetest of all flowers. 
 
 All hail to the city of roses. All hail to the queen 
 
 of the West. 
 Where sunshine and flowers are brightest, and the 
 
 land with plenty is blest. 
 Where craft from the whole world over find a 
 
 haven both calm and still, 
 And the endless march of progress sounds its 
 
 warning sharp and shrill. 
 
 Where the grains of golden harvests bring to her 
 
 their richest yield. 
 And the luscious fruits of orchards vie their crops 
 
 with that of field, 
 W^here the flowers bloom in winter and the grass 
 
 is always green, 
 iVnd nature is ever smiling, with beauteous face 
 
 serene. 
 
 Here where the hearts of her children, always 
 
 bids welcome to those 
 Who come to her threshold in sorrow, while 
 
 out of her full eyes there flows 
 Grieving, compassion, and succor for a sister 
 
 who mourns her lost. 
 Extending all help with hand open, nor pausing 
 
 to think of the cost. 
 
All Hail to the City of Roses 
 
Then pay her all honor due her, Rose City, our 
 own beloved, 
 
 Adorn her in flowers and garlands, let her sub- 
 jects in humbleness bow. 
 
 For her let a name of glory be written on tablets 
 of time, 
 
 Of the fairest city of roses, beautiful, grand, 
 sublime. 
 
 31 
 
TOILERS OF THE SEA 
 
 M LL along the Columbia River, and especially 
 
 AM where it empties into the Pacific, innumerahle 
 
 fishing trawls can be seen. And many are 
 
 the fishermen 7vho owe their living to the millions 
 
 of salmon that infest these waters and are known 
 
 by their deliciousness throughout the world. 
 
 Through sunshine and storm, in fog or in rain, 
 
 he casts off his fish-nets again, yet again, 
 This son of the seas, reckless and bold, whose 
 
 herculean efforts are ne'er in vain. 
 Whose daring of danger, whose braving of death, 
 
 in hist'ry's annals have found welcome space. 
 Whose succor of comrade with last, failing breath, 
 
 e'en deep seas his valor could ne'er efface. 
 
 With light hand and heart he loosens his seines, 
 
 letting them sink in the river's dark depths, 
 To gather their fill of the daih^ catch and empty 
 
 them out of the o'erburdened nets. 
 'Tis bread for his wife and his children it means, 
 
 the deep must its harvest give up to his hand, 
 To him, toiler of waters, the world must give 
 
 heed, as well as his brother, the toiler of land. 
 
 Seas may run high, the storm-king rage, little 
 
 recks he the elements dire. 
 The warring deep has thrilled him through, has 
 
 set his mind and heart on fire. 
 He heeds not that his skiff is frail, nor that the 
 
 seething billows foam. 
 His fighting blood the sea hath roused — She, he 
 
 vowed, should be his home. 
 
With Light Heart and Hand He Loosens His 
 Seines 
 
Thus wore the day, and he who toiled that they I 
 
 on land may have their fill, I 
 
 Of ocean's choicest, richest morsels, gave his best ^ 
 
 years with no thought of ill. 
 
 For the sea to him was a thing of beauty, it made i 
 
 him drunk as with rich, red wine, | 
 
 It filled his soul with its boundless grandeur, and j 
 
 turned his thoughts to a power divine. 
 
 Oh, for a voice to sing the praises of these brave \ 
 
 toilers who risk their all. 
 
 Who brave the sea in fog and fury, and are lost j 
 
 forever in its death-white pall, j 
 
 Who fight and strive with trawl and line, while i 
 
 they on land are slumb'ring on, 1 
 
 Through sleepless nights their vigil keeping, and i 
 
 still are sleepless when breaks the dawn. \ 
 
 35 1 
 
 i 
 
THE GORGE 
 
 OA^^ of the most sublime and aive- inspiring 
 sights that meet one's eye in the West are the 
 many canyons and gorges, hundreds of feet 
 deep and running betiveen tivo mountains ivhose 
 perpendicular walls defy all ascent. As we stand 
 gazing at this wonderful work of nature, we are, in 
 spite of ourselves, led on to contemplation. But 
 we, mere mankind, cannot solve this baffling prob- 
 lem, but must leave it to time eternal ivhen, ivho 
 knows, we shall learn the truth. 
 
 Oh, nature, you give us a problem that the wisest 
 
 of us cannot solve. 
 Of the wonders of all thy creations, of the stars 
 
 and heavens above. 
 Of the earth beneath, of its mountains, of its 
 
 rivers and valleys which lie 
 With the sun and moon shining always, in beauty 
 
 and splendor on high. 
 
 Tell me, I pray you, your secrets, of the end and 
 
 beginning of time. 
 Of thy past — of the countless ages, that have 
 
 made this world sublime. 
 Of the mission that is given to mankind, of the 
 
 veil that from our eyes hides 
 That which we long to gaze on, which our body 
 
 and soul divides. 
 
 Here is a scene that is worthy of the most 
 
 famous artist's brush, 
 That causes men to grow God-like, and their 
 
 voices sink to a hush, 
 
Tell Me, I I^ray i ou. Your Secrets 
 
As they gaze in mute contemplation on a sight 
 
 that is heavenly grand. 
 Nor can they from this spot of glory their eyes 
 
 elsewhere command. 
 
 Cities may teem with their thousands, the works 
 of man's hand may seem great, 
 
 But here where nature is builder, even in its 
 rough and crude state, 
 
 'Tis superior to all crafts of mankind, its hand- 
 work so noble and grand, 
 
 When cities are wiped off the planet, His works 
 shall for ages j^et stand. 
 
 39 
 
THE PILOT 
 
 /N bringing ships into the harbor much depends 
 npon the pilot. He must know bay, river or 
 harbor as would any man who drives on the 
 public highway, and in order to become acquainted 
 with the waterways, must serve his apprenticeship 
 upon different river craft before he can become 
 eligible to hold the license of a pilot. He must 
 begin from the bottom, from that of a deck-hand, 
 and mount step by step to the high position. 
 
 Storm-tossed and battered by the sea's angry 
 
 waves, her canvas and rigging torn into shreds, 
 With rudder dismantled, the battle-scarred ship 
 
 her remnant of white wings weakly she spreads. 
 "Oh for a breath of God-giving breeze," captain 
 
 and crew with longing cry out, 
 The harbor's in sight, oh welcome news, "The 
 
 pilot! the pilot I" hoarsely they shout. 
 
 Yes, 'tis the pilot, in tug-boat, approaching, a 
 help and a guide to all seafaring men, 
 
 He first to welcome, he last to leave them, shout- 
 ing a farewell till they meet again. 
 
 But ah, what a parting on ocean's vast bosom 
 for them who cannot the future foretell. 
 
 Perchance they'll return to the harbor they're 
 leaving, while the winds send the message 
 "ahoy, all's well." 
 
 Grasping the wheel the pilot stands gazing, 
 always ahead at the dim harbor lights. 
 
 Steady of hand, of eye ever watchful, while the 
 sea-battered veterans greet the home sights. 
 40 
 
Gkasfinc; thk Wheel the Pilot Stands Gazixg 
 
Their loud acclamations the night air is piercing, 
 theirs is a joy that bursts forth without bounds, 
 
 They gather on deck their homesick eyes feasting, 
 while ears are assailed by familiar sounds. 
 
 The vessel is docked, the pilot steps forward, 
 grasping the captain's sea-worn hand, 
 
 "You've brought her through," he cries with 
 voice trembling, "you've brought her safe 
 home, sir, I knew you would land." 
 
 Then leaving the ship, his duty well finished, he 
 wended his way to his home with light heart. 
 
 He had guided the vessel safe to her anchor, he'd 
 leave her till time again to depart. 
 
 43 
 
BUILDERS OF THE AIR 
 
 r^ VEN the various cities of the West can now 
 r^ boast of sky-scrapers. Buildings rising to the 
 "^"^ height of twelve and fourteen stories can be 
 readily met loith. The layman standing upon solid 
 earth and gazing up at the ivorkmen, ivho look no 
 larger than manikins, often wonders at the courage 
 and cool-headedness these builders of the air possess 
 when by the slightest misstep they may be dashed 
 hundreds of feet to the ground below. 
 
 Hammer and rivet, iron and steel, oh for a pen 
 with which to feel, 
 
 To tell of the dangers that compass them round, 
 far, far, above the solid ground. 
 
 Steady of eye, steady of nerve, must these workers 
 be, nor must they swerve 
 
 To the right, or the left, on their high, dizzy 
 perch, a mind full of caution must they pre- 
 serve. 
 
 These builders of the air, dauntless and brave, 
 
 whose herculean efforts the world admires. 
 Whose untiring labors with both mind and hand, 
 
 naught but men's highest praises inspires. 
 Theirs is the life that so often has paid the toll 
 
 that is needed so that the world 
 March on in its greatness, unconquered, untamed, 
 
 its banner of progress to the wild winds unfurled. 
 
 Muscles of steel, of iron their hearts, eyes that 
 
 flash as coals of fire, 
 Up shoots the rivet of white-heat steel, sent on 
 
 its journey higher, yet higher. 
 44 
 
Steady op^ Eve, Steady of Nerve 
 
Sent on its mission })y unerring hand, to land 
 
 safely into the can extended, 
 Set into phiee in this pond'rous mass of iron and 
 
 steel in high space suspended. 
 
 At last all is done. They who have labored, are 
 
 all but forgotten, their names are not heard. 
 Here stands the effort of human creation, its 
 
 head in just pride to the heavens is reared, 
 But they who have risked in bounden duty, their 
 
 lives and limbs for the daily wage, 
 The glory not theirs, only the labor; they're 
 
 gone from here to their next building stage. 
 
 47 
 
THE VOYAGE 
 
 THE ship has finished loading and is now 
 learing on her voyage. She carries a cargo of 
 all description — gjfoin for Enrope, Inmher for 
 Siberia. She puts out to sea, not knowing whether 
 she ivill return to her port in safety. 
 
 Up goes a cheer as the anchor is weighed, the 
 
 gallant ship puts out to sea, 
 Her snow-white sails to the winds unfurled, she 
 
 leaves the harbor on the lee. 
 Her new painted prow the still wave cleaves, her 
 
 being becomes with life imbued, 
 The flag at her mast-head proudly is waving, the 
 
 raging seas she has subdued. 
 
 On billowy crest headlong and heedless, she 
 
 shapes her straight, unerring course, 
 Her only guide the starry heavens, while the 
 
 siren's call follows perforce. 
 Her captain and crew free and light-hearted, 
 
 lustily sing to the ocean blue, 
 Reckless, defiant, for fray ever ready, they to 
 
 their duty always prove true. 
 
 Storms will rage as the broad sea she crosses, 
 
 Neptune his watery snares will put forth. 
 Waves will break o'er her from stern to main-top, 
 
 she will become the ocean's wild sport. 
 And perhaps — who knows — when storm-driven, 
 
 she'll pass through the breakers into the calm, 
 Into safe haven, into still waters, into the harbor — 
 
 safe from all harm. 
 
 48 
 
J?Z7 T ~-^.\ 
 
 Her Snow White Sails to the Winds Unfurled 
 
THE SHEEPHERDER 
 
 ]\/f-^^^ rememher the recent range wars that 
 [wl ^'^^^ ^^ bitterly fought by sheep and cattle men. 
 Papers and magazines devoted columns and 
 pages, and the news and stories were read and 
 pondered upon. Many lives were lost in the con- 
 flict for grazing lands until the government at 
 Washington threatetied to take a hand. Yet, 
 though the sheep men were on the weaker side, still 
 did they survive the dark days and can still be seen 
 at their old haunts. 
 
 With staff in hand the herder watches his flocks as 
 
 they graze, 
 In foot-hills or up in the mountains, in summer 
 
 or through autumn's haze. 
 Till the winter's frost and bluster drives him to 
 
 warmer clime, 
 Then hies he into the valley, with his charges he 
 
 reaches betime. 
 
 Though the winds a hurricane blowing, the very 
 
 mountains may shake, 
 And the thunder's roar, and the lightning, cause 
 
 the dark heavens to break. 
 Then must he, ever waking, his lonely night vigil 
 
 keep, 
 Lest the wild wolf and the coyote, their bloody 
 
 harvest reap. 
 
 Like a mother the new-born he cares for, and 
 
 brings them safe into the fold, 
 They who have dropped by the wayside, he 
 
 shields from the beast who — grown bold — 
 51 
 
Lurks for his prey in the darkness, and pounces 
 
 with unerring aim, 
 While the flock with nature's j)ure instinct, the 
 
 herder's protection all claim. 
 
 And like the Mighty Herder above us, who his 
 
 own flock never leaves, 
 To the tender mercies of vultures, and their sufl^er- 
 
 ings always relieves. 
 So does this staunch, lonely tender, of countless 
 
 thousands of shec}). 
 Watch over his tender charges, while they in 
 
 security sleej). 
 
 52 
 
His Lonely Night Vigil Keep 
 
THE PROSPECTOR 
 
 Ik TO sooner had winter's rigor left the mountain 
 l\l irhen the prospector, loading his pack-mule 
 with provisions and tools to last him during 
 his trip into the gold regions, sets out with hope in 
 his heart renewed. For years has he hunted that 
 elusive strike, and as yet has not succeeded in locat- 
 ing it. But his hopes, though lagging during the 
 dreary winter months, are revived when nature puts 
 on new life. And once more he starts out with a 
 golden vision ever before him. 
 
 With shovel and pick he roams the wilds, hunting 
 
 earth's rich golden store, 
 To him she must give which with her buried lies, 
 
 she must withhold it no more. 
 For Dame Fortune at last upon him hath smiled, 
 
 and given her own consent. 
 And he, like brave knight of olden times, on 
 
 conquest of gold is bent. 
 
 The mountain is steep, and dangerous betimes, 
 
 the path in the clouds is lost. 
 Yet little recks he the dizzy heights, nor does he 
 
 count the cost. 
 Gold here lies w^hicli for him will buy all that his 
 
 heart desires, 
 Its yellow gleam his eyesight blinds, its richness 
 
 his whole being fires. 
 
 No more shall want incompass him round, nor 
 
 hunger hold her sway, 
 The night hath passed, the clouds rolled by, at 
 
 last has dawned the day, 
 55 
 
His sun so long in pall obscured, again shall shine 
 
 for him, 
 And he who has drunk of misery's fill, joy's cup 
 
 shall quaff to th' brim. 
 
 56 
 
With Shovel and Pick He Roams the Wilds 
 
THE PLOWMAN 
 
 M \D the spears shall be turned into plow- 
 /-M^ shares.'' Such ukis the prophesy in the time 
 of war. And where the Indian tribal wars 
 and the ^i^ars between the red man and the white 
 waged fiercest, noiv wave the grains of ivheat and 
 barley, while the plowman whose hand and brain 
 has caused this to pass, stands gazing upon his 
 handiwork, the lord of all he surreys. 
 
 \yith hand upon plow lightly resting, his labors 
 
 he proudly surveys, 
 Gazes on dell and on meadow, on his horses and 
 
 cattle who graze. 
 On grains of gold and silver, waving softly in the 
 
 summer breeze, 
 Thinks of his passing hardships, and dreams of 
 
 his future ease. 
 
 Labor his hands had hardened, and caused dark 
 
 furrows to grow, 
 In rich, dark earth he had planted, so that the 
 
 seeds which he sow 
 Thrive in rain and sunshine, and gladden the 
 
 hearts of all men 
 With rich and bountiful harvests, which are 
 
 gathered again, 3'et again. 
 
 Here in the wilds he had striven, to gather from 
 
 nature his toll. 
 The best years of life he had given, his conquest 
 
 had been sharp and bold. 
 His future home he had planted, so that those 
 
 who may after him come, 
 59 
 
Shall find a haven most blessed, nor wish any 
 further to roam. 
 
 With hand upon i)low lightly resting, and eyes 
 
 that a pure vision see, 
 While tears the dark cheeks o'erflowing, to his 
 
 heart l)ring a sweet melody. 
 x\nd when he has ended his mission, and his 
 
 works on this earth are done, 
 Shall he, he wonders in silence, to his well-earned 
 
 rest be gone.^^ 
 
 60 
 
-v, 
 
 With Hand Upon Plow Lightly Resting 
 
THE ROUND-UP 
 
 TWICE a year the countless cattle on the West- 
 ern plains are gathered together for branding. 
 The " ro7ind-up,''' as it is called, means a 
 cessation for the many cowboys who have herded the 
 bunch continuously throughout the summer. And 
 noiD comes a reckless expetuliture of the accuimdated 
 earnings that have steadily been growing. For, 
 being out in the mountains, the cow-puncher has no 
 chance to spend his wages. 
 
 The hoof-beats are music to the cow-puncher's 
 
 ears, while the round-up his very soul tries, 
 As he dashes on mount as wild as he, and the 
 
 vast, moving herd espies. 
 For 'tis the life he loves, this rover bold, 'tis his 
 
 sweetheart, wife and home. 
 This wild land untamed by the hand of man, 
 
 though its vast expanse he may roam. 
 
 He loves its wild, wide ranges, its mountains, its 
 
 deserts drear. 
 Out on the barren in darkness, he slumbers with 
 
 no thought of fear. 
 As a child he trusts her always, his guide the 
 
 heav'nly star. 
 This beacon he knows will not fail him, its twinkle 
 
 he sees from afar. 
 
 The herd he knows by instinct, its wild and 
 
 tranquil moods. 
 The restless snort and pawing, that cannot be 
 
 subdued. 
 
 63 
 
When the roar of their stampeding sounds like 
 
 death-knell to his heart, 
 iVnd the countless thousands, hoof-beats cause 
 
 e'en mem'ry to depart. 
 
 Yet, spite all these dangers, he loves these west- 
 ern plains. 
 
 Its perils to him are sweetest, its grandeur his 
 wild blood tames. 
 
 The sounds of the round-up that echo, through 
 mountain, hill and dale. 
 
 He would not leave its presence, beside which 
 all other things pale. 
 
 64 
 
The Hoof-Beats are Music to the Cow Puncher's Ears 
 
THE FOREST 
 
 T I THILE the forests of the Eastern states are 
 \/\/ being depleted, those of Oregon, Washington, 
 Idaho and California give their yields un- 
 ceasingly to the lumber markets of the country. 
 And, besides supplying our ow?i land, the products 
 of these Western forests find their way into other 
 parts of the world. 
 
 In towering strength, with proud heads upUfted 
 in grandeur to the clear, blue sky. 
 
 The mighty forests in sombre silence lie peace- 
 fully sleeping while through them sigh 
 
 The mild winds of summer, when fair Dame 
 Nature dons her garments of beauteous green, 
 
 Or winter's harsh blasts in their frozen fury, 
 clothes their boughs in snow-white sheen. 
 
 From their comrades bold they at last are severed, 
 
 to meet the needs of the world of men. 
 But ah! though their lives are cut and sundered, 
 
 yet shall they sprout and grow again. 
 The beauty and wonders of nature's fulfillment 
 
 shall form a long and endless sign, 
 Of the mission that is given to all creation by the 
 
 power above us, the power divine. 
 
 67 
 
The Mi3Hrr Forests ix Sombre Silence 
 
MAY SI 1912 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
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