The Madisonian. [volume] (Washington City [i.e. Washington, D.C.]) 1837-1845, 1845-02-18
THE WEST.
BY MRS. LOIS B. ADAMS.

They tell me Of brighter land,
Where everlasting Summer smiles
OF waves by Southern breezes fann'd,
Encirclng bright and sunny ieles.
But, oh the West, the charming West,
In every livery drest;
Its lovely Spring, with fleeting train,
Its Autumn sad, with wavug 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 for me.
They tell me of fairer sky,
Where cloudess sunshine ever dwells,
Of sunny wales and mountains high,
OF dashing rilIs and Aowery dells.
But, oh | love these charming skies,
Where stormy clouds inconstant rise;
Their gorgeous shapes so wildly free,
Have more majestic charms for me
Than glories that unchanging lie,
In fair ltalia's glowing sky;
And Flora's Aowery 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.
kDoW tHaI OlOen tales nave uuDg
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 Wondering parapet;
And o er those crumbling walls TO mourn,
Fun oft will weeping Fancy turn:
But yet, methinks, that Fancy's tear
Should warmer flow DER ruios here;
For sho1 cal h..
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;
Naught but the simple mounds arise,
To point US where the warrior lies.
Oh tell me not that Eastern themes
Alone can minstrel art inspire;
l 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 Parnsssus' hill,
Where classic learning fingers still,
Or where lonian isles are flung
Like emeralds on the restless wave;
These western winds have ever sung
dIrge DER Genus hsllowed grave.
Then tell Of forests dark and deep,
Where many a daring d, ed was done,
BY cbieftains now in dreamless sleep,
Who erst have victories lost and won.
They liDger round the Wondering walls
OF ruined cities in the West,
Where thousands from their crumbllng halls
In shades Of dark oblivion rest;
Or should the musing poets ear
Refuse such sadd'niDg 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 home
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 10 wildwood bower;
or hearts who pledged their ruth till death,
And blest their fate " it'll doing breath.
Again the bounding deer shall roam
Der fowery prairies wild and free;
Again the red mans forest home
Unlettered 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 we'll 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.
Cos'rAsrIsE, MICHIGAN.