 | [Poems by Piatt in] Poems of two friends |  |
62
THE PIONEER CHIMNEY.
I.
Everywhere a Land of Shadow,
Not a footstep echoes o'er;
Song of peace and cry of battle,
Dream-like, dying evermore.
Not a footstep echoes o'er;
Song of peace and cry of battle,
Dream-like, dying evermore.
War-fires in the vales are leaping,
And the glaring dance of war;
But the wildly-gleaming faces
Are a silent dream afar.
And the glaring dance of war;
But the wildly-gleaming faces
Are a silent dream afar.
O'er the valley, clothed in shadow,
Sunlit stands the startled deer,
From the cliff against the morning,
Flashing away as we appear!
Sunlit stands the startled deer,
From the cliff against the morning,
Flashing away as we appear!
Lo! the golden vail of Morning
O'er that Land of Shadow cast—
Where the tomahawk lies buried
In the grave of all the Past!
O'er that Land of Shadow cast—
Where the tomahawk lies buried
In the grave of all the Past!
Nothing of that Land remaining
Save these old historic trees,
Shaking through their glittering branches
Dews of olden memories.
Save these old historic trees,
Shaking through their glittering branches
Dews of olden memories.
63
Yes, the years are easy numbered,
But the Change has traveled fast,
And how far behind, forever,
Lies the dead forsaken Past!
But the Change has traveled fast,
And how far behind, forever,
Lies the dead forsaken Past!
There the Vanished Race forever,
Smoke their calumet of peace;
Fainter-gleaming haunt their faces,
Dim old shadows of the trees!
Smoke their calumet of peace;
Fainter-gleaming haunt their faces,
Dim old shadows of the trees!
II.
Low among the greenery hiding,
Sent'nel of that Shadow Land,
Near the highway ever roaring,
See an old, dead Chimney stand!
Sent'nel of that Shadow Land,
Near the highway ever roaring,
See an old, dead Chimney stand!
Hiding from the highway golden,
'Mong the cherries, old and low,
While their blossoms fill the breezes
With their sunlit fall of snow.
'Mong the cherries, old and low,
While their blossoms fill the breezes
With their sunlit fall of snow.
Dead!—no more a flame is leaping
Through it toward the wintry cold;
Dead!—no more the smoke is wreathing
Wood-lands green and dim and old.
Through it toward the wintry cold;
Dead!—no more the smoke is wreathing
Wood-lands green and dim and old.
Dead!—no more an azure welcome,
Far to eyes that distant roam:
Dead!—no more it seems uplifting
Incense from the heart of Home!
Far to eyes that distant roam:
Dead!—no more it seems uplifting
Incense from the heart of Home!
64
Gone the homely threshold olden—
Feet that joyed and sorrowed o'er;
Gone the happy waiting faces;
Gone the smiles that oped the door.
Feet that joyed and sorrowed o'er;
Gone the happy waiting faces;
Gone the smiles that oped the door.
Gone the hands that shook the forest,
Burying in the April earth
Golden seed of tears, returning
Here their smile of harvest birth.
Burying in the April earth
Golden seed of tears, returning
Here their smile of harvest birth.
Gone the hearts that made pale faces,
When the wolves came through the cold,
And the fireside still was waiting,
Through the twilight snows of old.
When the wolves came through the cold,
And the fireside still was waiting,
Through the twilight snows of old.
Yet I see a light of sparkles
Reddening up old evenings, wild—
Like the fancies sent to wander
Up the chimney from a child.
Reddening up old evenings, wild—
Like the fancies sent to wander
Up the chimney from a child.
Hearts among the years may wander
Echoing through the vanished doors—
Dreaming dreams, returning hither,
Gather footfalls from the floors!
Echoing through the vanished doors—
Dreaming dreams, returning hither,
Gather footfalls from the floors!
Faith and Hope, the heaven-waiters,
Learning o'er their lessons bright,
Their young hearts may here be lifting
Wings of prayer in Heaven's light!
Learning o'er their lessons bright,
Their young hearts may here be lifting
Wings of prayer in Heaven's light!
65
Children here that dewed life's roses
With the smile of early tears,
May be children dreaming hither—
While old gray men lose the years!
With the smile of early tears,
May be children dreaming hither—
While old gray men lose the years!
They may hear the red man's voices—
Through the nights the silence start—
Olden nights that here are haunting
Some old graveyard of the heart!
Through the nights the silence start—
Olden nights that here are haunting
Some old graveyard of the heart!
You may find them growing weary,
Fainting through the mighty lands;
Painted by the years their faces—
Weary, burying years, their hands!
Fainting through the mighty lands;
Painted by the years their faces—
Weary, burying years, their hands!
O, the Fireside and the Threshold!
Where the joys of life we find;
By the beating heart forever,
Both together they are joined!
Where the joys of life we find;
By the beating heart forever,
Both together they are joined!
Nothing speaks their language olden
But the Chimney, crumbling low,
And a gleam of lighted faces,
From a fireside, long ago!
But the Chimney, crumbling low,
And a gleam of lighted faces,
From a fireside, long ago!
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