The record-union., 1896-02-18
For the Record Union"
THE FROST KING.


dedicated to the Truckee Ice CarnlVaL)
Far up in the white Sierras,
The frost king held his court;
Though his locks, wore the gray OF the
ages, -,
Yet his heart throbbed young with sport;
And he sent his word to the valleys,
With their verdured carpets spread,
Like Jennie Wren from the housetops,
"Come up! Come up and be dead!
"Be dead to the toiling and moiling
OF the weary hand and brain;
Come up to the storm-locked mountains
With their white surcease of pain.
Be dead to the hearts hot burning
In the whirl of political strife!
Be alive to the best that is in you,
Learn the story of my ilfei
Though like the lilies I toll not,
And like them neither do spin,
Yet greater than Solomon's glory
Are the garments that l win.
Lol the gates of heaven are opened,
And the looms of Paradise hum,
When down from the ether store mouse
My glittering garments come.
'sThe cold, clear-watered diamonds
That glisten from my hair,
Are the closest touch OF the angels
That can drop from anywhere.
Though from lack of knowledge the people
May couple my name with death,
They have lost the great lesson OF llVlng
Till they breathe the mountains breath.
swell your lungs with the precious ether
That Sits through the mountains
screens,
No microbes Turk in the branches
OF my resinous evergreens.
For once in your lives be stated
With virgin atmosphere;
No taint of malariouS fever
Can reach my fastness here.
Like the breath of original Eden,
Like the breeZes that fan the brow
n +ha xrOTldfS redeemed IN heaven,
Are the zephyrS to greet you now.
Lo! the world at rest from labor
Is locked in my embrace,
And upon her white reclining brow
Not care can our fingers trace.
Lo! we come with his welcome summons
And we take him at his word;
And the sway of his mighty Kingdom
Is greater than all we heard.
Though we cling to all the legends,
Of our favored land of gold;
Yet of all her pendent diamonds
The half has not been told.
Though we. are not all divested,
And our local quips we bring,
Yet we come with our hearts full homage,
And we cry, Long live the King!
We know from our valley summing
That the winter soon is sped,
And down with the coming sunshine
We shall hear THE King is dead!'
Yet while he reigns, God bless him!
And his courtiers, everyone
They have reared his stately palace.
And we heartily cry, We'll done!
1t is best to mellow with gladness,
And to write on the snow "Good cheer!
That our hearts may swell with sunshlne
In the zero part of the year.
You beat all the stories of Croesus,
In your snow-locked mountain town;
You are rich in your merry faces,
And your hands so warm and brown.
Go on and forever building
Your palaces of snow,
For above the icy columns
The graces of summer glow.
we shall wander back to the valleys,
And when questioned of the cold,
We will speak of the Donner party
And that cruel winter of old,
But have any of us found it,
In your Truckee of to-day,
With its padded coats of sky-wool,
And it's turrets warm and gray2
No! be banished the thought of winter!
You are only playing parts
There is too much sun in your handshakes,
There is too much gold in your hearts.
And hearts are always human,
And the world is won by smiles,
Good cheer still banishes distance,
And is never measured by miles.
HIRAM HOYT RICHMOND.