The Old Pioneer |
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Go Back Take Me Out to the Ball Game The Elfin Artist The Loom of Years Gazes The Bivouac of the Dead The Old Pioneer All Night I Lingered at the Beach Nocturne Sentimental Stuff Miners The Kaiser and God Martin Luther at Potsdam Lezaczek Fisher Price Kolorowanki Harry Potter Obrazki Do Kolorowania Lezaczek Fisher Price |
dirge for the brave old pioneer! Knight-errant of the wood! Calmly beneath the green sod here He rests from field and flood The war-whoop and the panther's screams No more his soul shall rouse, For well the aged hunter dreams Beside his good old spouse. A dirge for the brave old pioneer! Hushed now his rifle's peal; The dews of many a vanish'd year Are on his rusted steel; His horn and pouch lie moldering Upon the cabin-door; The elk rests by the salted spring, Nor flees the fierce wild boar. Dyson Vaccum Dyson Vaccuum Cleaners Vacume Cleaners A dirge for the brave old pioneer! Old Druid of the West! His offering was the fleet wild deer, His shrine the mountain's crest. Within his wildwood temple's space An empire's towers nod, Where erst, alone of all his race, He knelt to Nature's God. A dirge for the brave old pioneer! Columbus of the land! Who guided freedom's proud career Beyond the conquer'd strand; And gave her pilgrim sons a home No monarch's step profanes, Free as the chainless winds that roam A dirge for the brave old pioneer! The muffled drum resound! A Warrior is slumb'ring here Beneath his battle-ground. For not alone with beast of prey The bloody strife he waged, Of savage combat raged. A dirge for the brave old pioneer! A dirge for his old spouse! For her who blest his forest cheer, And kept his birchen house, Now soundly by her chieftain may The brave old dame sleep on, The red man's step is far away, The wolf's dread howl is gone. A dirge for the brave old pioneer! His pilgrimage is done; He hunts no more the grizzly bear About the setting sun. Weary at last of chase and life, He laid him here to rest, Nor recks he now what sport or strife Would tempt him further west. A dirge for the brave old pioneer! The patriarch of his tribe! He sleeps--no pompous pile marks where, No lines his deeds describe. They raised no stone about him here, An empire is his sepulchre, His epitaph is Fame. |