The Seattle post-intelligencer. [volume] (Seattle, Wash. Terr. [Wash.]) 1888-1914, 1895-07-05

the fun sympathy of those present and 10
evoke great applause. The poem was IS
follows:
Where the Course of Empire Halts.
Oh sentry on the Tower OF Years.
Look down the misty future time,
And tell as what rich fruit appears
In promise for our favored cline!
Reach forth thy wand and roll away
The clouds that hide from alien eyes
The marveis of that golden day
That waits our earthly paradise
Look eastward from the mountain chain!
Lo. the gold glory at our feet.
Across the wide Columbian plain
"A shoreiess, bincwy 50 of wheat!
And orchards heavy with perfume
> OF ripening fruit, and every vine
Standing hlood-stained. from foot TO
plume,
In wasting veins of precious wine!
Gathered the fiocks from fold TO fold.
The great mills jar the mountain walls
Stamping the granite from the gold
Or from the deep mines endless night
A cleaning stream of silver spills
From where the imprisoned dynamite
Means at his toll within the hills.
Turn westward. Better than perfums
Comes the faintpdor OF the brine,
And through the monstrous forests
gloom
The domes and spires Of cities shine!
And yonder lahor's temples stand,
And mills increase, and factories swarm.
Where genius With mis- cunning hand
Has chained Snoqualmes falling storm!
No whirling winds Of ruin go
Roaring and crashing through the frs;
Amid the silent peaks of snow
NO nghtning glareS. no thunder stfrs.
Lonely and white the mountains stand.
Like solemn sentinels who guard
The frontiers of enchanted land
In silent everlasting warui
oh. cold, blue lake! through riven hills,
Give thy sweet bosom to the sea,
While TO thy touch the ocean thrills.
And sends his great ships up to thee!
The onfysetaiH upon thy sky
The smoke of factories DER thee curled,
Wide on thy placid waters lie
The warships of the Western world.
Through mountains torn in cons gone.
mighty arm Of sheltered sea
Balboa ocean reaches down
To lead US up TO destiny.
And oceans snowy caravans,
From shores of Asia hitler rolled,
Beat at the barriers and the bans
That bar us from the Fleece of Gold!
Oh, ruler of the coming years
VIII you be blind, or will you sees
Will you be deaf, or one who hears
The mighty voice of History?
Tear down the bars across our door.
And let the winds their triumph win,
And Seaward roll an answering roar
OF welcome as the fleets come in.
oh. make our mighty inland sea.
With nayieS filled and flags unfurled,
UnVexed by toilS-foreSer free,
The haven OF the floating world
No more a waste some lone ship braves,
Ger paths uncharted blurred and blind;
No more a wild of wandering waves,
The pampas of the roaring wind,
Then here, with all her marches past.
In the best bufwark of the free,
The course of empire haltS at last
In glory by the sunset sea;
Applauded by the oceans BOOM
The banner of her welcome home
The wind-swept ice, silver plume,
Afiaunt on Rainier's snowy dome,
And here shall freedom gather power,
And roll her voice across the deep,
Till in his 81 omy midnight hour
The exile startles from his sleep;
And wretched men in alien lands,
Deep in Siberian prisons cold,
With kindling hearts and lifted hands
Shall cry. as Parker cried of DID,
"Oh choral lips of love and song
The worlds harmonic multitude
That through the ages dim and long
Have prophesied the coming good!
Philosopher and saint and seer
OF every age and race and cline
Behold. the promised days are near,
Auror6l on the hills of timei"