File:Scenes and poems from the Wild Rose state (1914) (14756847736).jpg

Identifier: scenespoemsfromw00pyle (find matches)
Title: Scenes and poems from the Wild Rose state
Year: 1914 (1910s)
Authors: Pyle, William J Torch Press, Cedar Rapids, Iowa
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Publisher: Cedar Rapids, Ia., The Torch press
Contributing Library: The Library of Congress
Digitizing Sponsor: The Library of Congress

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wigwam ho.ds. While the tears the red braves hide; For thee Wapsie grand of the Red Mans Land, The joy of our Indian Tribe. But no warrior weeps, no matter what sleeps In his bosom, heavy and sore; So farewell sweet stream, with Red Mans dream. As part of thy richest lore. Thou Wapsie grand, of the Red )\Ians land. For well see thy face no more. But in spirits dream, () beautiful streamWe see thee ripple and sing and play.Over pebbly stones, and Indians lioncs.Pushing on thy billowy way ;O Wapsie grand, of the Red Mans land.By thy banks may we kneel and pray. O pale-face man, of the white tribe clan We leave our beautiful stream. Flowing over pebbly stones and Indians bones To record the white mans dream ; O Wapsie grand, of the Red Alans land. Flow on, while the wild birds scream. Pale-face write clear, for our \\apsie dear.As she flows on to the rolling sea;Let the white mans love be evermore A glory unto thee;Thou Wapsie grand, of the white mans land.For thy face no more well see.
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THE DREAM OF SUMMER A DREAM OF SUMMER By John Greenleaf Whittier, my personal friend for a few brief years. Bland as the morning breatli of JuneThe southwest breezes play;And, thru its haze, the winter noonSeems warm as summers day.The snow plumed Angel of the NorthHas dropped his icy spear:Again the mossy earth looks forth,Again the streams gush clear. The fox his hillside cell forsakesThe muskrat leaves his nook.The bluebird in the meadow brakesIs singing with the brook.Bird, breeze, and streamlet free;Our winter voices prophesyOf summer days to thee! So, in those winters of the soul, By bitter blasts and drear Oerswept from memorys frozen pole, Will sunny days appear. Reviving Hope and Faith, they show The soul its living powers. And how beneath the winters snow LIE GERMS OF SL^IMER FLOWERS! The night is mother of the dayThe Winter of the Spring,And ever upon old decayThe greenest mosses cling.Behind the cloud the starHght lurks.Through showers the sunbeams fall;For God, who loveth

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