The Prairie Dove - An 1858 Nebraska Poem
By A.L.D.; written for the Bellevue Gazette.
- Oh, fly away, o'er the prairies roam
- Thou beautiful bird of the West;
- Oh, fly away, to my native home,
- Thou'll be a welcomed guest.
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- Bear a message from us sweet dove,
- To that long-loved cheerful spot,
- For there are friends whom we dearly love,
- That shall never be forgot.
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- Oh, tell them we oft grow sad and lone,
- When we think of the days of yore,
- We miss the familiar smile and tone,
- Of the friends we loved before.
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- Oh, tell them that absence, or change of clime,
- Can sever the sacred ties,
- Of love, of friendship, for is not ours
- A love which never dies.
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- Oh, tell them, we would be happy here,
- Yes, we would be content,
- If those we loved in youth were near,
- Pleasantly would time be spent.
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- Then fly away to my once sweet home,
- Thou bird of the airy wing,
- Bear this message to that loved dome,
- And hear the songs they sing.
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- Oh, then return with the speed of love,
- When night grows dark and chill,
- And tell, O, tell us thou innocent dove
- Do they love, do they love us still.
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- We know there are some in that distant home,
- We love and remember us yet;
- And though in the far off west we roam
- We know the chain it cannot sever.
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- Though we many never meet on earth,
- There is a brighter home
- Where we may meet, and ever dwell,
- In that celestial dome.
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- Oh, may we soar on wings of love,
- Beyond the azure vaulted sky;
- Reign with the angelic hosts above,
- Around God's throne on high.
August 5, 1858. Bellevue Gazette 2(37): 1.