Country and river-side poems . Prospect Point *With stone the white man marks the graves Where sleep his kindred dear,Unmarbled lie the buried braves With bow and arrov/s near,But yet from far as set of sun ^ Their childrens hearts will hither run. From western plains I came afar To see this river land,I journeyed long neath sun and star To stand where we now stand;Here Fox and Sac, our old men tell,In lodge and town were wont to dwell. Twas here they lit their council gathered here their braves; Here is the Hunt-land of my sires,And in these mounds their graves; And up and down this
Country and river-side poems . Prospect Point *With stone the white man marks the graves Where sleep his kindred dear,Unmarbled lie the buried braves With bow and arrov/s near,But yet from far as set of sun ^ Their childrens hearts will hither run. From western plains I came afar To see this river land,I journeyed long neath sun and star To stand where we now stand;Here Fox and Sac, our old men tell,In lodge and town were wont to dwell. Twas here they lit their council gathered here their braves; Here is the Hunt-land of my sires,And in these mounds their graves; And up and down this river blue Their paddles drove the swift canoe. Gone is the wolf, and gone the bear. And gone the buck and doe;No eagle screams aloft in air. No fox runs oer the snow;The white mans bullet on the plainThe herds of buffalo has slain. The North-land forests in whose gloom The lonely moose should log-mans ax will strike with doom. Nor leave the elk a home;Thus both of game and woods bereft,Naught for the Indian is From ivestern plains I came afarTo see this river-land. Page Eighty. KEOKUK—A Story of Prospect Point Page Eighty-one The mole dug deep; the hawk swept down To strike the digger dead;The mole broke up the Indians town, And squaws and braves have fled;Tecumseh fell, shot to the Black Hawks wings the vvhite manbound. Their campfires died along the hills, Their tepees are no more;Forced by your towns and boats and mills, They left the river shore;They wronged themselves in savage war,But drink and white men wronged them more. We learn your tongue in Indian school, To speak our own is shame;I talk as neither ghost nor fool, I know your kin, and game;As yon red fire fades into nightMy race in yours shall fade fro The stranger ceased and silent stood, And I, with hush of silent too, in softened mood. And then inquired his name;My blood, he said, and bosom struck,Is from the veins of Keokuk. The flames were fading from the sky,
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1910, bookidcountryriver, bookyear1910
