(The Passing of the Red Man)
Low-lying hills, “bad lands” and rolling plain,
Stretching afar like billows on the main,
With winding rivers seeking distant homes,
And leagues of virgin prairie
Where stately bison roams.
The brave Mandan, the Sheyenne and the Sioux,
The Chippewa and the Grosventre too,
Along the rivers and the plains did dwell;
The land they called Dakota,
And methink they named it well.
And here they lived for centuries untold,
Watching the secrets of the plains unfold;
Their homes they built and smoked the pipe of peace,
And vowed by the Great Spirit
Their friendship would not cease.
* * * *
Gone are the braves. The papooses and the squaw
No longer wait for winter snows to thaw;
The tepee’s gone, the peace pipe and the dance,
Gone, gone, alas! forever,
The Red Man’s fighting chance.
For pale face came, and from Dakota’s plain
The Red Man drove, and claimed his vast domain;
No power on earth could stay the Viking’s son,
For “iron men” are born
In the land of midnight sun.
* * * *
Onward they came, these Northmen, feared of old,
Bold pioneers, to wrest the hidden gold
From North Dakota’s hills and virgin sod;
The ploughshare won the land
For these “master men” of God.
* * * *
Their children now look out on well-tilled fields,
And garner wealth, that many a rich mine yields;
The argosies of earth their treasures bear—
For empty rank and title and sham,
They little care.
* * * *
O boys and girls of North Dakota’s Land,
Guard, love her well! Pledge her your heart and hand!
Where else on earth are seen such sunset fires—
What other race can boast
More fearless dames and sires!