An Exquisite Poem About the Prairie

[From the News.]

The Prairie.

By G.C. Albaugh.

The prairies of our favored land

Are always beautiful or grand.

First, beauteous Spring her hand extends,

And leaving green with azure blends;

She softly throws her emerald vest,

Till every undulation grows

Beneath each wanton breeze that blows.

 

Then summer, warm with light and life,

Enters upon the joyous strife.

Her feet are shod with blush of morn.

That she may all her ways adorn;

Her breath is flowery fragrance rare,

Therewith she loads the prairie air;

She spreads abroad the grassy wave

Horizon's farthest shore to lave.

 

Next, Autumn, other matron fair,

Walks softly forth, with gracious air.

Her garments, sunset's gorgeous hues,

Her jewels made of sparkling dews;

With her own robes she clothes the hills,

With sunny tints the valley fills;

Till all the prairie's vast expanse,

In gold, waves to her happy glance.

 

Last, Winter, with his head all hoar,

And voice more fierce than lion's roar,

Comes, proudly, from his arctic house,

O'er prairie's golden sod to roam.

His eager servants, then, are free

To revel in their wildest glee:

Their song is music, wild and grand,

With which they fill the prairie-land.

 

The lowing herds; the boundless deer;

The mustang, in his wild career;

The buffalo, which like the storm,

Sweeps o'er the plain his mighty form;

The antelope, as light as air;

Huge rabbits, and the timid hare;

The wolf; the dog, (of social fame),

And many more of various name.

 

The goose, the brant, (in dress of snow;)

The crane; the heron; stork, and crow;

The turkey, grave; the prairie-hen;

The partridge, lark, and merry wren;

The loving, gentle, cooing dove;

The owl and hawk, that murder love;

The snipe, the plover, and curlew;

And other, to the wand'rer new.

 

All these the prairie-landscape grace,

While sun and moon their circles trace,

And changing seasons, in their arms,

Bring, each, its own peculiar charms,

So that, while months still onward move,

They may the poet's thought approve;

The prairies of our favored land

Are always beautiful or grand.

February 25, 1854. Texan Mercury 1(23): 1.