Ye say they have all passed away,
That noble race and brave;
That their light conoes have vanished
From off the crystal wave;
That 'mid the forest where they roamed,
There rings no hunter's shout;
But their name is on your waters,
And ye cannot wash it out
written by Lydia Sigourney, 1791-1865
Detail aus Benjamin Franklin Reinhart " The Emigrant Train Bedding Down for the Night, 1867"
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A Contrast on Matrimony
by Elizabeth Markham
The man must lead a happy life,
Free from matrimonial chains,
Who is directed by a wife
Is sure to suffer for his pains.
Adam could find no solid peace,
When Eve was given for a mate,
Until he saw a woman’s face
Adam was in a happy state.
In all the female face, appear
Hypocrisy, deceit an Pride;
Truth, darling of a hear sincere,
Ne’er known in woman to reside.
What tongue is able to unfold
The falsehoods that in woman dwell;
The worth in woman we behold,
Is almost imperceptible.
Cursed be the foolish man, I say,
Who changes from his singleness;
Who will not yield to woman’s sway
Is sure of perfect belssedness.
Road to Oregon
by Elizabeth Markham
We left our friends in foreighn lands-
Our native country dear;
In sorrow, took the parting hand
And shed the falling tear.
For Oregon, three cheers they gave,
From us to disengage-
Fearing that we might find our graves
Amidst the sand and sage;
Or met by cruel savage bands,
An slaughtered on the way-
Their spectred visions, hand in hand,
Would round our pathway play.
To the Pacific’s temperate clime
Our journey soon began-
Traversing through the desert sands
Towards the setting sun.
On Platte the rocks like battlements,
Were towering tall and high;
The frightened elk and antelope
Before our trains would fly.
And herds of buffalo appear-
On either side they stand;
Far as our telescope could reach,
One thick and clustering band.
O’er sinking sands and barren plains,
Our frantic teams would bound-
While some were wounded, others slain,
Mid wild terrific sound.
And in these lone and silent dells
The winds were whispering low;
And moaning to the Pilgrims, tell
Their by-gone tales of woe.
Deserted on those mountains wild,
No ear to hear his cry-
Near by a spring, on a rude bluff,
They laid poor Scott to die.
Unaided grief and blighted hope,
Midst savage beasts of prey-
The fate of poor deserted Scott
Is wrapped in mystery!
Our toils are done, our perils o’er-
The weary pilgrims’ band
Have reached Columbia’s fertle shore-
That far-famed happy land.
O’er mountains high and burning plains,
Three thousand miles or more-
We are here; but who can e’er explain
Or count the trails o’er ?
Such clouds of mist hang round the scene,
O’er which we have no control;
It’s like a half-remembered dream,
Or tale that’s long been told.
Horse Sense
to Col. P.U.Montgomery
by Allegra
Ein Pferd ist ein treuer Freund
Es trägt meilenweit, was Füsse so weit
Nicht tragen mögen, nicht in der selben Zeit
Es schnaubt und trabt, es schwitzt und plagt, seine vier Beine
Für Dich, schwerer Reiter, alleine
Es steht ganz still, es springt und schlägt
Hört auf Kommando, von dem den es trägt
Es trotzt der Natur Unbill
springt in reissende Fluten, wenn sein Reiter das will
Ein Pferd kann kaum ein Kampf erschüttern
Es bleibt seinem Reiter treu, er braucht es nur zu füttern
Und selbst ist der Hunger noch so gross
Und selbst ist die Gefahr noch so gross
Und ist die Pein noch so gross
Ein Pferd ist ein treuer Freund
Und am Schluss, wenn es gestorben ist,
Den Reiter es nährt, wenn er es frisst.
SIOUX PRAYER
Grandfather Great Spirit All Over The World
The Faces Of Living Things Are Alike.
With Tenderness, They Have Come Up Out Of The Ground.
Look Upon Your Children That They May Face The Winds
And Walk The
Grandfather Great Spirit
Fill Us With The Light.
Give Us The Strength To Understand And The Eyes To See.
Teach Us To Walk The Soft Earth As Relatives
To All That Live.