Here winds a thick and yellow thread,
A moss'd and silver stream instead;
And trout that leap'd its rippled tide
Have turn'd upon their sides and died.
Lo! when the last pick in the mine
Is rusting red with idleness,
And rot yon cabins in the mould,
And wheels no more croak in distress,
And tall pines reassert command,
Sweet bards along this sunset shore
Their mellow melodies will pour;
Will charm as charmers very wise,
Will strike the harp with master-hand,
Will sound unto the vaulted skies
The valor of these men of old--
The mighty men of 'Forty-nine;
Will sweetly sing and proudly say,
Long, long agone, there was a day
When there were giants in the land.
[Footnote 105: Cincinnatus Heine Miller, commonly known by his assumed
name of Joaquin Miller. Born in Indiana, but was taken when very young
to Oregon. After a wild career in Oregon and California, he at length
studied for the law. His poetry, like his life, is of an eccentric
cast.]
* * * * *
=_Joel Chandler Harris,[106] 1846-._=
=_433._= "AGNES."
She has a tender, winning way,
And walks the earth with gentle grace,
And roses with the lily play
Amid the beauties of her face.
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