Page:History of Oregon Literature.djvu/338

Hither poetry would dream;
  Life's old questions,
  Sad suggestions,
Whence and whither? throng thy stream.

On the roaring waste of ocean
 Shall thy scattered waves be tossed.
'Mid the surge's rhythmic thunder
 Shall thy silver tongues be lost.
O! thy glimmering rush of gladness
 Mocks this turbid life of mine!
Racing to the wild Forever
 Down the sloping paths of Time.
  Onward ever,
  Lovely River,
Softly calling to the sea;
  Time, that scars us,
  Maims and mars us,
Leaves no track or trench on thee.

The Pioneer Ox

This was published in the Oregon Native Son for July, 1899, and is not included in his collected volume The Gold-Gated West.

An empire has risen, triumphant and glowing,
Where the rivers in solitude somber were flowing
 In the distant and dimly remembered days,
When the pioneer rifle-shots, resolute, ringing,
The first notes of conquest and progress were singing
 In the dusk of wilderness ways.

How the forest was stricken, the wild foe defeated,
 Has over and over again been repeated
In the grand bivouacs of the pioneers,
When they yearly assembled to call up the story
Of battles and toils that preceded the glory
 Of victories won in the long-faded years.