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THE PIONEER

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n a cottage far away dawned his natal day.
There he had a mother's care, had a father's guidance, rare,
And with broadened view into manhood grew.

In the forest 'neath his stroke fell the mighty oak.
With his heart and conscience right, he was happy in his might,
And his iron strength served his labor's length.

But his labors were in vain, and his payment pain,
For it was a spiteful dole that the croft gave him as toll,
And his castles fair vanished in the air.

So one day he came to tell home and kin farewell,
For beyond the trackless sea lay his golden hopes as he
Went with buoyant soul to that gleaming goal.

He a boundless faith possessed: In the Virgin West,
While he adverse highways trod, built a home and broke the sod;*
Providence his eyes sought beyond the skies.

By the power of his will, all that would him ill,
Levelled even, low and well, from his travelled pathway fell,
As a fog in May, swiftly blown away.

And the wilderness now yields crops on fertile fields
Neighbors coming daily, and daily homes are planned:
In a Norseland glade waits a winsome maid.

And the prairie roses glowed, as beside him rode
To his home the bride who stood at his side, an angel good,
When with threat'ning doom came the days of gloom.

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* See "Corrections" page

Scores of years his past have lined, as with peace of mind,
Satisfied and calm he stands, in the friendship he commands,
Richer than he thought lies the goal he sought:

Stretches vast of waving grain -- measures of his gain
With their ripening heads appear to his searching vision here,
As a rolling sea, on the fertile lea.

But his summer day has sped, autumn shadows shed
Coolness on his place of rest, and he looks into the West,
As the sunset plays in his smiling face.

And he sees the maples nod by the House of God:
On the breezes anthems swell, where in former days the yell
Of the savage rang, and the bullet sang.

But the hall, the clock, the dome of fair Learning's home,
Which upon a hill lies near, and, in dreams of hoary seer
Stood revealed of old, now he may behold.

And a people cast abroad, but who trust in God,
Lived in bygone days oppressed: They have found a place of rest;
In that favored place dwells a virtuous race.

Thus the aged pioneer wipes a grateful tear
From his eye, as he beholds all the good that God unfolds,
Happy grandson, thee, as thy simple fee. 

 

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© 2002 for the NEGenWeb Project by Pam Rietsch, Ted & Carole Miller.