| Share page | Visit Us On FB |
|
FRONTIER BALLADS
Now lakes of water ripple
Where before the sands lay dry, And beyond the concrete walls which hold them caged—
Run shimmering, silver channels
Through fields of wheat and rye Where yesterday the searing sand-storm raged.
But splendid though the epic
Of the river's wondrous past As Homer e'er could sing or Milton pen,
It will know its grandest numbers
In the ages yet uncast When its worth shall yield full measure unto men.
In this storehouse of the Nations,
Where but thousands prosper now, The homes of teeming millions soon shall be;
On this noble waste of waters,
Untouched by steamer's prow, Shall roll a people's commerce toward the sea.
Unto us and to our children
Will be dealt the untold gains If, shaping Nature's promise into deeds,
We accept the willing service
Of this Titan of the plains And compel its mighty muscles to our needs,
Till its flood runs deep and constant
To the Mississippi's tide. And the wedded torrents down the South are hurled,
Pouring forth their fleets of plenty
O'er oceans far and wide To bear our country's riches to the world. |
||
|
80 |
||