American Progress

A Song Of The Sunset Land.

Ernest  McGaffey. In the Sunset Lands, 1895.

 

IN the far-off hills of the sunset land;
In the land where the long grass bends and quivers,
Where the ghosts of night and morning stand
By the gleams and dreams of the lonely rivers,
There the brown sedge waving, stoops and shivers
At the water’s edge in the sunset land.

Prairie Born.

Robert J.C. Stead. Songs of the Prairie, 1912.

 

WE have heard the night wind howling as we lay alone in bed;
We have heard the grey goose honking as he journeyed overhead;
We have smelt the smoke-wraith flying in the hot October wind,
And have fought the fiery demon that came roaring down behind;
We have seen the spent snow sifting through the key-hole of the door,
And the frost-line crawling, crawling, like a snake, along the floor;
We have felt the storm-fiend wrestle with the rafters in his might,
And the baffled blizzard shrieking through the turmoil of the night.

Lost On The Prairie.

Rose Terry [Cooke]. Poems, 1861.

 

OH, my baby, my child, my darling!
Lost and gone in the prairie wild;
Mad gray wolves from the forest snarling,
Snarling for thee, my little child!
 

The Round-Up.

J. Edward Hungerford. The Pacific Monthly, 1911.

 

AIR is gittin’ crisper,
Frost is on the pane;
Wind’s begun to whisper,
Harsh acrost the plain;
Wrangle up yore truck, boys,
No more time fer play;
Wish the outfit luck, boys,
Round-up starts today!

The Prairie On Fire.

George P. Morris. Poems of George P. Morris., 1860.

 

THE shades of evening closed around
The boundless prairies of the west,
As, grouped in sadness on the ground,
A band of pilgrims leaned to rest:
Upon the tangled weeds were laid
The mother and her youngest born,
Who slept, while others watched and prayed,
And thus the weary night went on.
 

Sal And Hiram In Dakoty.

Will Chamberlain. Songs of the Sioux, 1901.

 

FIVE year coming next spring,
Me and Sal—tail name’s Doty—
Sed goodbye to York State,
And landed in Dakoty;
Left the train at Aberdeen,
‘Spected to get a singein’
Eny minit by a prairie fire—
Sal she looked for Injun.

The Call Of The Round-Up.

Jessie Davies Willdy. Out West Magazine, 1912.

 

WHEN the frost is on the mountain,
And the wind blows on the plain,
And the dry mesquite is droopin’,
For the want of clouds and rain;
When the sunsets burn so hazy,
And the grass is brown again,
And the fine dust blows so lazy,

Creekbed Rides.

Alberta Bancroft. Sunset Magazine, January 1905.

 

IN winter time the creek’s aboom,
And there is never any room
To climb its banks, or go to ride
The paths that wind along its side.
It rises forty feet and drowns
The willows to their very crowns;
It rises up and overflows
And churns along the orchard rows
And carries off the land and trees
And tears at everything it sees.

Song Of The Oktahutchee.*

Alexander Posey. The Poems of Alexander Lawrence Posey, 1910.

 

FAR, far, far, are my silver waters drawn;
The hills embrace me loth, to let me go;
The maidens think me fair to look upon,
And trees lean over, glad to hear me flow.
Thro’ field and valley, green because of me,
I wander, wander to the distant sea.