[Vision2020] Farewell to Idaho (Poem)
thansen at moscow.com
Mon Sep 26 05:00:55 PDT 2022
Farewell to Idaho
by H. F. Johnson
Come all ye heroes of the land,
We'll sing of Western life,
Ye pioneers who led the van
Through danger, toil and strife;
Who planted freedom's starry flag,
In spite of savage foe,
Upon the rugged mountain peaks
And plains of Idaho.
You saw the land in days of yore,
When savage foes were 'round;
You heard, through valley, cove and dell,
The warwhoop's dismal sound;
You've scaled her lofty mountain peaks,
You've crossed the torrents arch,
You've met the grizzly in his path,
The warrior on his march.
The wild deer bounded from his lair,
And sped across the land;
The elk. that noblest beast of chase,
Were seen on every hand;
The cougar's savage growl was heard,
The gray wolf's dismal howl,
The coyote yelping on the plain,
Made music for us all.
The scene has changed; alas, no more
The wild deer scuds the plain,
The lordly elk. a sylvan god,
With us but few remain;
Our savage foeman. once so strong,
Is feeble now at best,
His star of empire, once so grand,
Is setting in the West.
We will see no more the trapper's day
The hunters fame is gone,
The game and fur have passed away,
No more can they return;
But in their stead domestic life
Is teeming on the hills,
The lowing herds and tinkling bells,
The air with music fills.
The civilizing magic wand
Has touched the primal plain:
Where roamed the savage beasts of prey
Now waves the golden grain;
Where stood the dusky warrior's lodge
The school house proudly stands,
Where rose the savage warrior's cry
The songs of peace ascend.
Where, in the mountains' solitude,
Was heard but nature's song,
The miner's pick and anvil's-ring
The chorus still prolong;
The mountains yield their precious store
To beautify the land;
While labor, toil and enterprise
Is seen on every hand.
While some have reached the golden shore
And dwell in fairy land,
Some struggle on with hope's bright star
Still shining- in the van;
While some beneath the churchyard sleep,
Some rest in unknown graves,
Some met the storm king on the deep,
And sleep beneath the waves.
To those who reached the golden shore
By the just and honest way,
May peace and plenty crown their board,
Till life shall pass away;
To those who struggle on in hope
We give a hearty cheer;
To those who sleep in unknown graves
We drop a friendly tear.
Seeya 'round town, Moscow, because . . .
"Moscow Cares" (the most fun you can have with your pants on)
“A stranger is just a friend you haven’t met.”
- Roy E. Stolworthy
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