The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1900-07-26
NAMES CALL
To Her Sons and Daughters.
[Dedieatea to Old Home Week.l

l4)cutcttCtI 70 Ottt IIOHtC ~ OCf0'J
By Juliet Marion Stanley Warren.
Ye rowing Sons and Daughters of the good
old State of Maine,
From North and South and East and
West, from hill and grassy plain,
Where er your steps have wandered,
where 'er your feet now roam,
Your Mother Maine is calling you:
"My Children, all come hOme"
From NIadawaska's northern bound to
Kittery's ocean strand,
From Androscoggin leaping falls to st,
Crooks golden sand;
From Kennebec's fair, emerald banks,
the invitations come;
Your Mother Maine is calling you: My
Children, all come home!''
The Saco, mountain born. still winds
merrily towards the sea;
Penobscot rolls its waters yet by hill and
tield and lea;
The Sandy, with it's smiles and frowns;
all send the message, Come!
Your Mother Maine is calling you: My
Children, all come homeF
From Oxford's hills which rear their
From Mt. Blue top and Abr RAMS crest,
resounds the echoing cry;
From Mars Hill, Agamenticus, ana
AdUdAUlu s lQlDy 4OIl65
Your Mother Maine is calling you: My
Children, all come hOm9l'
From myriad lakes which Nesting lie
within their valley-beds,
While on their shores the dark-green
pines lift up their stately heads;
From MOos9head, KineO-shadOWed now
a-glint and now a-fOam,
Your Mother Maine is calling you: My
Children, all come homel"
Sebago, Rangeley, Schoodic, and Pennee-
seeWassee call;
Rowe, CObbosseecOntee Auburn, Long, a
summons send to all
From Grand and MaranOcOok, o 'er whose
waves gay sportsmen roam,
Your Mother Maine is calling you: My
Children, all come homeI'
Isle-dotted Casco, in whose arms the
city by the sea-
Lies sleeping like q child lulled by its
mothers melody,
With reckoning fingers raised alOf5,
cries, ''Sons and Daughters, come
Your Mother Maine is calling you: My
Children, all come home!' "
The ninble footed deer rove free in wood
and field and glen;
The trout and pickerel dart and swim
far from the haunts of men;
The sea- girt isles, against whose crags
old Oceans pillows foam,
Say, " Mother Maine is calling you: My
Children, all come homel'
Come, see the house where you were
born the chamber where you slept;
The mother room where mother kissed
away the tears you Wept;
The trees meath which you frOllcked;
comet mid old scenes once more
roam
Your Mother Maine is calling you; my
Children. all come home !"
Come, see the sohoolhouse where you
cOnned your lessons DER and Ger;
The church where you learned how to
reach the shining, heavenly shore;
The sleeping place where kindred rest,
their troubles all o ercOIne;
Your Mother Maine is calling you: My
Children, all come hOmel"
So loyal Sons and Daughters of the dear,
old State OF Maine,
Isle, mountain, lake and river, all take
up the glad refrain -
"From North and South and East and
West, where r your feet now roam,
The Pine Tree State is calling you: My
Children, all come home!' -
Portland, Maine, January s5, 1909.
$This poem, hitherto withheld from
publication, is the Oldest Of the "Old
Home Week. poems, as it was written
the next day after the mid-winter meet
ing of the Maine Federation Of Women's
Clubs, held at WestbrOok, January a. at
which time a committee was appointed
to advocate the idea of an Old Home Week
In Maine.