The daily Madisonian. [volume] (Washington City [i.e. Washington, D.C.]) 1841-1845, 1845-02-18
THE WEST.
BY MRS. LOIS p. ADAMS.

They tell me Of a brighter land,
Where everlasting Summer smiles;
or waves by Southern breezes fannd,
Encircling bright and sunny isles.
But, oh the West, the charming West,
In every livery drest;
Its lovely Spring, with fleeing train,
It's Autumn sad, with waviug grain,
Its Wintry storms and Summer showers,
The beauty of its wild wood bowers,
Its rolling rivers, proud and free,
Have more than magic charms Tor me.
They tell me Of fairer sky,
Where cloudless sunshine ever dwells,
or sunny wales and mountains high,
OF dsshing rills and lowery dells.
But, oh ! love these charming skies,
Where stormy clouds inconstant risei
Their gorgeous shapes so wildly free,
Have more majestic charms for me
Than glories that unchanging lie,
In fair ltslis's glowing sky;
And Flora's howery plains OF pride,
More lovely than the mountains side;
And for the dells so warm and low,
Where streams with ceaseless music flow
Give me the loved and lovely West,
With ever varying livery drest.
know that olden tales have flung
A charm around the Eastern world.
Where erst the early poets sung
Where Freedom first her flag unfurld.
And spell-bound memory fingers yet,
Round many nouldering parapet;
And DER those crumbling walls to mourn,
Full oft will weeping Fancy turn;
But yet, pethinks, that Fancy's tear
Should warmer flow DER ruins here;
For not when fell the warriors brave,
Have marbles marked his lowly grave;
His followers laid the chief to rest
In some lone valley of the West;
No records on the lists of fame,
To us may tell his deeds or name;
Nsught but the simple mounds arise,
To point us where the warrior lies.
Oh tell me not that Eastern themes
Alone can minstrel art inspire;
know that here poets dreams
Are often warmed with holy fire.
What! know ye not theme for song
Is borne by every breeze along;
Though not amid Castalian groves,
Where still poetic Fancy roves;
Though not round lone Parnassus' hill,
Where classic learning fingers still,
Or where lonian isles are flung
Like emeralds on the restless wave;
These western winds have ever sung
A dirge DER Genius hallowed grave.
Then tell of forests dark and deep,
Where many daring deed was done,
By chieftains now in dreamless sleep,
Who erst have victories lost and won.
They linger round the Wondering walls
OF ruined cities in the West,
Where thousands from their crumbling hall
In shades of dark oblivion rest;
Or should the musing poets ear
Refuse such sadd'ning sounds to hear;
They'll instant change the mournful theme,
And wake to life brighter dream.
The dark-eyed Indian maid shall come
Once more TO view her woodland homo
And as she pours her welcome song
The breeze shall bear its notes along.
Twill tell of wealth, and pride and power
OF loves exchanged in wildwood bower;
OF hearts who pledged their ruth till death
And blest their fate with doing breath.
Again the bounding deer shall roam
Der howery praires wild and free;
Again the red mans forest home
Unfettered Freedoms home shall be.
Oh! seek not then in classic lore
Alone, for minstrel art and fire;
Seek not that gift in deeds of yore
Which Western scenes may well inspire
Sweet Fancy here delighted roves,
And ne'er could poet be more blest
Than wandering mid the towering groves
That crown our loved and lovely West.
CONSTANTINE, MICHIGAN.