The Coconino sun., 1927-11-25
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!. MURDERED BY APACHES :.
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(Coconino Sun Of Dec. 25, 1905)

(Coconino Sun of Dec. 25, 1905)
I have been requested by the North
ern Arizona Pioneers to have the fol-
lowing poem published in the Coco
nino Sun. VIM. Dennison was mur
dered by the Apaches IL miles south
of Prescott on the headwaters Of the
Hassayampa. He must have described
his camp to his mother, for it was an
ideal one at that time, surrounded by
pine and quakenasp, with beautiful
stream flowing past. Many times !
have seen groups of men stand
around with the tears running down
their cheeks listening to one Of their
number reading the poem. They loved
VIM Dennison, but what affected
them most was that they, too, had q
loving mother and home. They
were tender-hearted and as honorable
men as the sun ever shone on, and II
the history Of the pioneer days OF Ari-
zona should ever be written, 1t would
be incomplete without the beautiful
poem from the pen of one who would
represent the mothers of all Arizona
pioneers. The poem was written by
Mrs. Dennison, who at that time lived
in Memphis, Tenn, and dedicated to
her son. ALLEN DOYLE.
Oh! lay me down on the messy
ground
Where my darling breathed his last;
And tell me Of his tragic lot,
That his dream Of home is past.
Los Angeles mail, and the Indian trail,
The tomahawk, arrow and gun
The telegram wild, with the death OF
our child;
Oh! the horrible fate OF my son!
OH loved wild trees, with your palrny
leaves,
Did you pillow his dying head?
Did you hear him breathe through
your trembling leaves,
Tell brother I am dead?"
Sweet, balmy breeze, did you give
him ease,
Did YOU fan his sisters brother?
Did you hear him cry, as you hurried
by,
"oh! watt me to my mother?"
Hassayampa creek, with your waters
fleet,
Your rivulets and your brooks,
Did you hear him sigh as you mur-
INJURED by,
Did you heed those longing looks?
Oh! Hassayampa creek, with your wa
ters meek,
Did you bathe his fathers son;
Did you hear him say, as he passed
away,
Oh Lord, Thy will be done?"
Brave pioneers, you've been with him
for years;
Did you dream of that peril sorest;
AS you wended your way to hill
where he lay,
To die all alone in the forest?
AS his body we bore to the old cabin
door,
Did your torches burn bright at his
coming?
Did his old dog Tray tear his mantle
away,
To welcome the song he left hum
ming?
OH Arizona wild, you have murdered
my child!
Loved Prescott, you've nobly re-
ceived him,
| Oh! watch Ger his grave, those rellcs
to save;
He slumbers where nothing can
grieve him.
Dear child Of our fondest hopes, fare
thee we'll!
Thou hast left thy kindred dear,
l. - .4-,,x TrAt. - n
Brave William, rest thee there.
Where the wild flowers mingle their
odors sweet,
And the buttercups filled with dew.
Together weep for thine early sleep,
Nocturnal tears for you.
When the sweet birds carol their
morning song
And the weeping willows wave
The large rain drops, from their lone
tree tops
Over poor William Dennison's grave.
Then rest thee, darling, rest thee
there,
Meath thy quiet, lonely bed;
Rest thee, William, rest thee there,
With the pioneers low and dead.
No more shall we welcome that we'll
known voice,
/ AS thy stay was here not long;
But in heaven, exchanged for the lul-
laby,
Thou art singing the Angels song.
Mrs. M. G. Dennison.
o.
Rural Progress
''Have you made any improvements
] around the farm ~ he was asked.