The Somerset reporter., 1907-07-04
LOYAL to Maine.


mer residents of this state and in
some cities, particularly on the Pacific
coast, those who formerly resided in
Maine have organized associations of
this kind. Word comes of a recent
meeting held by the Maine Associa
ton in Pasadena, Cal, and among
the things presented to renew the
memories Of the Pine Tree State
was the following poem, written by
Mrs. Emily P. Webb, who has, and is
destined TO have for many years,
many warm friends in this commun-
ity. 1t is particularly gratifying to
those who continue to enjoy the ad
vantages of a residence in Maine to
know that our former citizens now
living in Pasadena cherish pleasant
memories of their old home.
Memories of Maine.
o let us today go back again
To the grand old woods and hills OF Maine
To the rushing rivers that laugh and run
And are never drank up by the thirsty sun,
To the shining ponds and shady pools
Where the speckled trout hold their summer
schools.
There the lakes eleam bright ike nmpd
gems
From her swelling breast TO her garments
hens
And they flash and glow with the changing
dyes
OF the autumn woods or the sunset skies
And many are linked by silver chain
That gives new charms to the gems OF Maine.
can you forget the dear old farms
And the orchards green with their out.
stretched arms
The rcd-cheeked apples and apples OF gold
You gathered when days were bright and
cold?
And the cottage, grey with the years 1t bore
And the lilac bush that grew by the door?
30 you recall when the mowers pass
Their swinging scythos through the lush tail
grass,
The swishing song that the grasses sing
As the graceful mowers bend and swing?
And the long green swathes that behind
them lay
SO sweet with the breath Of the new-mowr
hay?
+ DO you see on ll6 BTdsS-llneu county IOdu
The oxen plod with their piled-up load,
With the forks upright in the huge pile thrust
And the sun as 1t shines through the rising
dust,
And the eager boys who have begged a ride
To the big brown barns with the door,
swung wide.
o the nights with the northern lights Ger
head,
Like flaming eagle with wings outspread,
And the rustling fields of ripening corn
That oft of golden head was shorn,
And roaStcd uiice, at a big bonfire
While the boys and girls dance round Tho
pyre.
When the harvest has all been gathered in,
And the fruit is stored in each separate bin,
And the riCks are mll of their golden sheaVe
And the barns of hay to their vey caves,
For space lifos strenuous cares doti
cease
And the wide land lies like a soul at peace
The autumn air is like sparkling wine
That stirs the blood, and he scarlet vine
As IL climbs and twines er the old ston,
wall,
And the red and gold of the leaves as they
fall
And the bills asleep in a purple haze
How bright they made those beautiful days
There is iiJc in Maine, in her throbbing veins
From her mountain tops 10 her rolling
plains,
And the strength OF the hills in a curren
runs
From her rocky soil to her rugged sons,
And we feel the power of its quenchle.s FIRE
In our noble mothers and grand old sires
How brave in war! With their dauntlts,
lines
They met the South ike their stalwart
pines,-
Those borne down from the dark Maine
woods
on the stormy breast of the great sprlnl
Hoods
Sweeping all barriers down as they 60,
So our gallant boys swept down on the foe
In affairs of state,-we are proud of our men
OF Hamlin, and Reed, and Fessenden,
OF Dingley, and Frye, who loves the fray,
OF Common, whose record we honor today,
or that prince OF all, great James q. Blaine,
Oh, these are the men who have stood fol
Maine
Then LEI us be loyal wherever we are,
To the state that is true as the great north
star
To the splendid souls that time has set
Like gems in the nation coronet,
To the grand old flag, without a stain,
That leads the states from the hills Of Maine