Lewisburg chronicle. [volume] (Lewisburg, Pa.) 1850-1859, 1855-05-18
Tho Logan [Illinois] Grazier.
BT THOMAS DUNN ENGLISH.

bf IHOAAo dunn fssLisu.
At dawn 10 where the herba-e grows,
Up yonter hill the graIier goes.
ob-dient TO his every word,
Eefore him stalk tho lowing herd.
Reluctant in the misty morn,
With stamping hoof and tossi ns horn,
With heightened, low, or angry moan,
Go bla k and dsppled, red and roam,
Through drain and hollow, up the hill,
They pass, obedieat TO his will;
The slender OK and mighty bull
The graEier thinks them beautiful.
You see less beauty in the herd
Than in yon orsnse-tinted bird,
You fix your better pleased gaze
On yon broad sweep Of emerald Etaise,
Yon naples on the hill side high,
Or on yon field Of waving rye,
More pleased with maize, or rye or trees
The grazier's sight is not on these.
lie sees n netted purse Of gold
In every believing three-year-old.
lie sees new comforts round his hts!s,
When buyers down from Ta1ewell cotne,
He sees his cabin nigh the creek.
Its mud daubed chimney turned to brick,
Its rude logs hid by ciap-boards sawed,
ePiit shingles on its roof ~ broad;
New puncheOns on the worr-out floor,
A picket fence tefore the door,
And cups of tin and plates OF deli
And pewter spoons adorn the shelf.
Close where the rife hangs on hooks,
On cupboard top are rows Of books
The Pilgrim of the dreaming John,
And Weem's life OF Marion;
The well-thumbed speeches Of Calhoun,
The pictured life OF Daniel Boone;
B'Aubirne's story told so we'll.
How Luther fought and Cranmer FELL;
To please his wife, a yellow gown,
And beads to deck his daughters brown.
A jack knife for his youngest son,
A rife for his eldest one.
All these to him the cattle low,
As up the hill they slowly 60.
He fears no ravage Of distase,
'Mong brutes so strong and ia. as these:
There's salt enough for them in store,
Brought from Kanawha's muddy shore
The herbage on the hill is good,
The fern is thick within the wood.
There's tender grass in yonder drain,
And peavine on the summit plain.
High thought Of gain that moment thrills
The grazier of the Logan hills.
He envies not the hero bold,
He cares not who may Office hold.
The statasr.an's pride, the stout mans limb,
The lovers hopes, are naught to him.
His mind three things alone receives
His wife, his children and bis beeves.
So these NAV flourish and be fair,
All else around is smoke and air.
Oh, Logan gra,ier, stout and strong,
Despising fraud, defying wrong,
Brave as thine ancestors who bore
The sears Of combat, long and sore,
And fearless met in ba tile shock,
The wild and painted Shawnaock:
True as the rifle in thy hand,
And generous as thy fertile land
Full oft I've eaten by thy side
Thy cakes Of corn, and venison fried;
OF in thy cabin, as thy guest,
Have stretched my uearied limbs to rsst.
love to note thy honest brow,
Stnunch freind aud true companion thou
And know no manlier form Is seen
Than dwells within thy coat Of jean;
Truth fills those eyes, 80 keenly set
Beneath thy fox-skin cap, and yet
Iwould not that thy lot were mine,
would not that my lot were thine.
Guard thou thy beeves, and count thy gold,
BE glad when those grea. heads are sold.
For me by midnight lamp, pore
My manuscrip. in silence Ger
Each to the pash that suits his feet;
Each toll, for time is moving heet,
And soon in wooden shroud arrayed,
Both in our narrow coffns laid,
IT matters not if cattle fair,
Or making songs, has been our care.
The poets and the grazier's form
Shall feel alike the greedy worm.
Shall pass, the poets glowing words;
Shall pass, the grazier's lowing herus:
And from mems memory fade away
Both grazier's shout and poets lay.