| Prairie clothed in verdure fair,
A flowery-dotted robe; No more the hunter and the hare Shall make thee their abode. Long years thou'st been the wild unknown, Thy deserts unexplored; But e'er we'll claim thee now our own, Keep thee a sacred hoard. Thou'st cost us blood as pure as gold, Thy bosom stained with gore; And 'neath thy verdure sleep the braves Who opened freedom's door. Thy rolling hills and fertile plains Wild herds of deer no more Shall stamp and lick,, at olden games, Nor heed the bison's roar. ]Now rustling blades of thrifty corn Thy bosom's storage yields; All vegetation now adorns Thy rich and fertile fields. The hand of culture enters now Thy long wide-open door, And bids the farmer with the plow, His strength upon thee pour. Bright glitt'ring Star, thou long hast shone And twinkled in the West, Those of the East beck'ning to come And nestle in thy breast. But to thy oft-repeated call A warm response is given; And he who answered, now receives A home not short of heaven. __James A. DeMoss |
Kansas Zephyrs
James A. DeMoss
(Thayer, Kansas: ___. 1892)
Pages 12-13
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