1825-"Council Oak"-1925In tracing back the profiles of time, Checking up the points and curves, We sometimes are amazed At the accomplishments of man, We are standing on the threshold Where our fathers bravely stood Where the treaty was read and signed Beneath old Council Oak. At Council Grove by treaty, One hundred years ago, The red man deeded to Uncle Sam A right-o'-way to Mexico, To hold as long as grass will grow And fire will burn on earth below, And rain from Heaven make the water flow In the scenic river Neosho. The Indian, by nativity, Was sole owner of this land. By treaty is the legal right Upon which the white man stands. The Red Man roamed the forests, The valley, plain and hills A thousand years or more Before any other race of man, On the northern lake and rivers, He glided the waters oer, Down the Ohio and Mississippi In a birch bark canoe. O'er the plains of Kansas Chased the elk and buffalo, These are scenes of youth One hundred years ago. The West begins where the East begins Where the tempest flings its spray, Then extends on beyond Where the waters meet; The river Fall and Verdigris At "Independence" and "Neodesha"" Then on through the greasewood Lit by autumn's fleeting rays. They were men-our dear old fathers "Hope," their guide, from sun to sun; Hearts of oak that never faltered While marching through an unknown land; Depending solely upon their trusty rifle As they cautiously blazed the way, A yoke of oxen to a lynch-pin wagon Slow, but sure, for a Right-o'-Way. Sometimes the road was rough and wind But they wended on their way O'er a wild, unbroken trail Now the great American plains The sun and moon, stars at twilight Their guide, morning, noon and night Santa Fe their destination, Council Grove their heart's desire. Brave they were, our pioneer fathers Who first blazed the way Through the dim aisles of the forest As they crossed the trackless plains. Their religion, race or color To Old Glory was no bar. "We are Columbia's chosen children In the beams of those golden stars." There Patriotism, Name and Honor No clique or klan shall ever mar. The inmost conscience of our fathers Caused them to first break away From the bleak New England woodland To cross the wild, the then desert plain. They saw the rainbow proudly arching, Spanning the earth from sea to sea. With faith in God and all His creation, They set out at once for Santa Fe. The long, long trail is ended, Our dreams have all come true. The iron horse is steaming To the land devoid of snow, Where, the golden orange swings And the flowers sweetly bloom From the Atlantic to the Pacific, To away down in Mexico. Yes, the long, long trail is ended, With all our states we're blended In a historical and Christian And social business way. As a symbol to our sonnet, "Put on your old gray bonnet," Place a Kansas gay feather on it, As we bedeck with sunflowers Our queen At Council Grove today. The Plains Poems in Kansas
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