The Westward Trail poem

[David Lifferth]

http://books.google.com/books?id=C1DIXTf2PJMC&pg=PA9&source...

The Westward Trail
by William Lightfoot Wisscher
from
A Thrilling and Truthful History of the Pon Express


Rising, the sun points westward, by the shadows of the trees.
The shadows of the mountains, and of monuments and men,
And westward is the trending from the continents and seas;
From all the earth, within the scope of mortal sight and ken.

From where the murky waters of the dark Missouri flow,
And blot the blue of Mississippi's clear and placid tide,
Since the dawn of Western Empire, a hundred years ago,
Have ridden bands of hardy men,' with Progress for their guide.

Amid the forests and along, where to the tawny stream,
Come branches, lazing eastward, across the desert plain,
They rode, and on, twixt castled buttes, to where the mountains gleam, '
Neath helmets of eternal snow, 'mid Nature's rugged reign.

Among the Sioux and Shoshone, and Cheyenne tribes that roamed,
The region where the riders bold, undaunted took their way;
Along the placid rivers, and where cascades dashed and foamed,
They blazed the way of Empire; lit its wider, brighter day.

Over the mountain ranges, and among the crags and peaks ;
Adown the streams that turn toward the great Pacific Sea;
Where Nature unto Nature's God her sonorous aves speaks,
Along the canons and the dalles, the forests and the lea.

Highways of steel have stretched along the trail the seekers made ;
Great mountains have been rent in twain, deep valleys bridged and spanned ;
As if by magic, cities rose, and arteries of trade
Have pulsed the blood of enterprise through all this gloryland.

This gloryland where Nature's mood is wild, and free, and strong,
Where awful rise the mountain kings, where sweep the river queens,
In majesty unspeakable, and where the forest's song,
In high hosanna, rolls above its sea of evergreens.

Now hers is high prosperity, and happiness, and health,
With life that throbs in ecstacy amid the golden gifts;
Now the favored land rejoices in blest, God-given wealth,
And in thanksgiving, ardently, its grateful voice uplifts.

Then Ho! for the land of plenty, under the western sun!
And Ho! for the land of flowers, land of the vine and tree!
Ho! for the land of grit and gold, the land by heroes won!
Ho! for the land of Fortune's home, along the western sea!

And shout for the flag — "Old Glory!" Shout for its waving bars,
Where blaze the crimson tintings of the sunset's lustrous dyes,
And gleams the snow of the mountains that reach toward the stars;
The bravest flag that ever rose to kiss a nation's skies! '

Twas borne by heroes, valiantly, along the Western Trail,
The young republic's light and pride, "Old Glory," Hail! All hail!

W. L. V.