The Somerset reporter., 1898-03-17
Maine.
] sing Of Maine, whose masts OF pine
Like steeds, by winds. are driven
Ger stormy seas with dying names,

AHSy BAibca tnc stGuktD upon Int NILS
With tempests wild, to wrestle.
TIL with their foam. necke ed harness on,
They race off with the vessel.
The winds from of the hills of Maine,
Are always freshly blowing,
The waters always bright and clear.
Within her rivers flowing.
A thousand lakes like mirrors bright,
Reflect ter lights and shadows,
A thousand streams like silver chains,
Go winding through her meadows,
And there the forests stretch afar
Like some grand army sleeping,
With sentrys tall on every hill,
Their silent vigils keeping
Deep in their shade the surly bear
Oft roams the dark woods over,
And soft eyed deer by hunters chased,
Go leaping to their cover.
What crystal ice the steam and wind
From off her border, carries.
What splendid monuments and shafts
From out her granite quarries.
She sends from regions In the north
The oak and pine unfailing,
And to the ports of every cline
Her loaded ships are sailing
Though Maine has many varying moods
She neer the heart estranges
There is a charm in all her ways,
A beauty in her changes
| When cold winds blow the winter snow
| We never mind the weather,
But close and warm defy the storm
| And draw more near together.
When from the budding maple boughs
We hear the first red robin
What pent-up joy there seems to be
Within his bosom throbbingl
| And when across the soft blue sky
The fieecy clouds are scudding.
| And snow banks in the hollows lie,
To hide the May-fiowers budding;
And grasses creep from sheltered hooks,
Along the gardens borders
| And gently wave their yerdant locks,
| How sweet the fresh spring odors
A soft wind comes from out the south
And DER the brown hills blowing,
Melts all the ice upon the streams,
And sets their currents flowing.
The heart of Nature that has lain
| So silently, fulfilling
| Unchanging laws, now feels new life
| Through all her arteries thrilling
And like a bride, through whose white veil
We catch shy maiden glances,
so spring, in'sunlt robes of mist,
Toward us slow advances.
AS summer comes and long bright days
Appear in glad succession,
And sparkling showers bring out the flowers
To join the gay procession;
We lay aside our work and care
And take what Natures giving,
And by the brooks and lakes and woods,
Find life still worth the living.
The summer wanes, and Autumn walks
Along the wayside hedges,
And waves her "golden-rod" aloft
With tassels on the edges;
The Frost has kissed her olive cheek,
And left q scarlet blossom,
| The sumac leaves are in her hair,
The ripe fruit on her BOSOM
And when she lifts her royal hand
And uses all her brushes,
| What glorious landscapes fill the land;
She colors all she touches.
And last Of all when woods are bare,
We see spirit, gliding
Like gold ETHEREAL through the air,
The branches brown, dividing
And know it Is some summer, dead,
Whose soul is filled with yearning
For golden days. forever fed,
Once more to earth returning.
And SO the Indian summer haunts
The upland and the meadow,
A pensive ghost in golden mist,
| Departed summers shadow
| And so the seasons come and go,
Each one welcome conner,
| With jinglng bells DER Winters snow,
| And perfumed bells of summer,
Though through the whole thermometer,
The wayward mercury ranges!
The sons of Maine are stable men,
The season, only, changes.
o, there are skies more fair, than bend
Above Names rugged bosom,
Where all the fakes of snow that fall
| Come from the scented blossom;
Where fronded palms lift up their heads
Like ferns to giants springing,
And mocking birds through all the night
Unto the moon are singing;
And violets look with shy blue eyes
Through lashes curling, tender,
And roses bloom the whole year round.
N more than regal splendor;
But there were never hearts that beat
Beneath the arch of heaven.
| More brave and true, and strong and sweet
| Than In Maine's men and women.
AS steadfast as their granite hills,
| They make, the wide world over
The best of rulers in the State.
The best of friends and lovers
How oft in thought we turn to Maine
When silver-footed shadows
Let down the sunsets golden bars
And steal across the meadows,
Above the mountains, looming far
The colors grow uncertain.
The night wind whispers to the star
Through twilight's purple curtain,
And floating DER the garden beds
Where dews are softly falling
On flowers in prayer, with bended heads,
We hear our mother, calling.
o, mother State! Though far we roam,
Yet when the shadows gather
At eventide you call us home,
And draw us near together
| EMILY 7. Web
Pasadena, Cal, Jan. 18th, 1893.
Resolutions of Coincidence.
Canaan Grange, March 4, 1898
Whereas our Heavenly Father in
infinite wisdom has removed from
midst our worthy and esteemed brotl
Horace Eaton, who has been long a
intimately connected with the grange
seems fitting that some testimonial
our appreciation of his services should
recorded.
ReSolped Therefore, that his regs
| apd lnhnrs for tho ..ausp of rho Gran