OS 3^/6 ]^p^.n . 'n^O POEMS BY Charles Edwin Hewes Copyright by W. L. White 1920 j^^ 10 1291 ©CLA6CS337 Oo ^ The Gall of the West There's a feeling of Recreation When you go to a different clime; A spirit of Exaltation, Whether north or south of the Line. But to know the intensive meaning Of a wonderful — beautiful time, One must go to the Crest of the Rockies To experience that pleasure divine. Oh ! The Call of the West— Youth 's treasure-chest ; Hills and vales forever fair: New lands, new faces, greetings happiest; Glad songs sweet welcoming there. Oh! Call of the West from the Nation's Crest, Where the great Peaks split the Tide, Whore West greets East by the Spread Eagle's nest. Atop of the Great Divide. There's a thrill of Exaltation — Solemn worship of the Sublime ; A lifting of thoughts to Heights of Sky — Once doubted — here found, forever Thine. A great Peace with the Sov 'reign Power Declared, and felt — past the bounds of Time. A birth of Love, vast — which understands all — That rhymes perfect with Eternity's line. Oh ! The West is young and the West is strong ; Its people wortii mixing among. They came from all quarters, a wonderful throng ; Democracy — of ev'ry tongue. Oh! Call of the West from the Nation's Crest, To the Land of the Setting Sun. Where East greets East by the Spread Eagle's nest- Where the Rivers of Glory run. Sweet is the Smoke of the Aspen Wood Sweet is the smoke of the aspen wood Blown from the dwellings of Solitude; From chimneys of settler, rising blue, Column of cheer thru the fireplace flue. Sweet is the smoke of the aspen wood Feeding the fire of the camping brood ; Fuel ambrosial — spicy scent; Smoke — of the wilderness redolent. Sweet is the smoke of the aspen wood Inviting the soul to dreamy mood ; Myrrh and balm, fragrant, of mountain-land- Honey'd incense of the burning brand. I'm Going Back to the Hills, Old World I'm going back to the hills, old World — Back to the Promised Land. I'm going back to the Wilderness Where the snowy Mountains stand. Old World, yon have left your marks on me; For bread you've given me stone. With joy I'm off for the Hills, old World; I'm leaving you all alone. Alone with your sins, your wiles, your ways ; Alone with your solid slave days; With your Game of Business Business Which craven Man so foolish plays — I'm going back to the Hills, old World, To the Hills where nature stays. Old World, I'll accept your Challenge cold — I'll dwell in the Hills of Stone. Proud Mammon, I've got my pack on my back, I'm leaving you all alone. Alone with your gold by the Money Throne; Alone with your measly bone ; ^ To wrangle and gnaw the living Flesh In the lust of your very Own — I'm going back to the Hills, old World, With pray'r that you'll some day atone. I'm going back to the Hills, old World- Back to the Promised Land. I'm going back to the Wilderness Where the snowy Mountains stand. Where the Dogtooth Violet Grows On a shady slope near a bank of snow, Where they hear tlie sonndinj; river below And all above is the June sun 's glow — That's where the dogtooth violets grow. Where moonbeams their gleam thru the spruces tlirow And dim star shadows palely come and go ; Standing asleep with their heads drooped low — That's where the dogtooth violets grow. When Dawn's billows of flame the peaks o'erflow And the Main Range wakes as the Morn winds blow ; AVith parted lips their kiss to bestow — That's where the dogtooth violets grow. The Mountain Land The Momitain-land ! The Mountain-land! AVhere wild Winds meet and gather — And Storms, their legends tell, To Peaks and Summits list'ning As they stand sentinel. Dear Oberland ! Dear Oberland ! Land of laurel, green -bough 'd pine and spruce- Land of flowery dell; The wildest land is the Mountain-land Where the Sons of Freedom dwell. The Mountain-land! The Mountain-land! Where Tyrants kneel to Free men And Despots find their cell. Land, when the tocsin loud peals. Brave arms the foe repel. Dear Oberland ! Dear Oberland ! Land of David, Ethan Allen, Bruce- Land of Owen and of Tell; The truest land is the Mountain-land Where the Sons of Freedom dwell. The Mountain-land! The Mountain-land! Home of the sturdy Pioneer Where harvest valleys swell. Where Liberty and LaboV To evils sound the knell. Dear Oberland ! Dear Oberland ! Land where Patriot hopes rest verdant On the Nation's citadel — The strongest land is the Mountain-land Where the Sons of Freedom dwell. The Robin and the Owl Two bird notes from the dark'ninj? Oft, as in summer evenings I scan the twilight skies, Two bird notes from the dark'ning Woodlands sweet and tuneful rise. One — it is the dusk Owl, who Hoots of the deepening niglit ; The other is the Robin Piping of the Morrow bright. And as tlie note of the Omen Thru my soul doth dismal surge. The Joyous song of the Robin Doth blithely caroling urge Glad hopes of the dewy morning — Of warm, day-mounting sun, And thrills my heart expectantly Of happiness to come. 'Tis wondrous — lifting soul to God — That e'en the feathered throngs, Of many different species And divers airy songs, Fulfill the constant Law of Change — Successively Day and Night ; Pessimistic man ilium 'd By Hope's optimistic light. Solitaire Once, roaming aimless, certain mountain wilds : Yet, perhaps, not aimless, but subtly led, I chanced upon a vale so sylvan rare. It seemed to me that here an Eden spread. Not intruding, but raptured, from the edge, I long did view the virgin dale, then said ; "So fair a spot as this, I wish, Might know an angel 's melody ; For none so pure of Heaven's throng But here could worship Deity." 'Twas then, a bird — thrush, warbling Solitaire, As thru the coveted beam'd a golden ray Of Sun, shot thru the shining breast of Noon, Upraised a song of such ecstatic lay. That, mindful of Celestial sanctity, I said, as I witlidrew upon my way ; "So fair a spot as this, I know, Has heard an angel's melody; For none so pure of Heaven's tlirong Could sweeter sing to Deity." St. Peter's of the Sky The Vale is o'er roofed tonijjht By a dome of wondrous skj'^ ; Violets on the base-line — Bands prismatic piled bri{?ht hijrh. Atop — a silver glow Thru which first stars of ev'ninp; shine, 'Till the whole a moment stands As an edifice divine. 'Twas then I knew why An