 | The Poems of John Rollin Ridge -- A reproduction of the 1868
publication plus fugitive poems and notes. |  |
POEM*
HAIL to the Plow! for naught shall take its place,
he first, great civilizer of the race!
Still honored by the wisest and the best
In every age where'er its power has blest!
For long before the Mantuan bard had sung
His Georgics in the grand old Roman tongue,
Or deified Triptolemus, revealed
The mysteries in Ceres breast concealed;
Or Egypt's kings their pyramids upreared,
To brave old Time and dark Oblivion feared;
Or e'er old China's wall stupendous rose
Long ages since, 'gainst barbarous Tartar foes;
Or e'er the Parsee worshiper of fire
His altars lit where Elbrooz heights aspire;
Or Afric Carthage built grim Moloch's throne,
Or Ninevah arose, or Babylon,
The plow, presager of the Arts, was known!
he first, great civilizer of the race!
Still honored by the wisest and the best
In every age where'er its power has blest!
For long before the Mantuan bard had sung
His Georgics in the grand old Roman tongue,
Or deified Triptolemus, revealed
The mysteries in Ceres breast concealed;
Or Egypt's kings their pyramids upreared,
To brave old Time and dark Oblivion feared;
Or e'er old China's wall stupendous rose
Long ages since, 'gainst barbarous Tartar foes;
Or e'er the Parsee worshiper of fire
His altars lit where Elbrooz heights aspire;
Or Afric Carthage built grim Moloch's throne,
Or Ninevah arose, or Babylon,
The plow, presager of the Arts, was known!
Though rude of form, yet in its furrowed track
Fair Plenty trode and paid swart Labor back
Ten-fold his toil; for in those days, as now,
The Earth was kind to him who drave the plow.
Fair Plenty trode and paid swart Labor back
Ten-fold his toil; for in those days, as now,
The Earth was kind to him who drave the plow.
With Agriculture sprang whate'er in Art
Has raised the mind or purified the heart--
Whate'er in Science hath exalted man.
And glorified him since the world began;
And still to Agriculture do we trace
The first faint gleam of progress in the race.
Has raised the mind or purified the heart--
Whate'er in Science hath exalted man.
And glorified him since the world began;
And still to Agriculture do we trace
The first faint gleam of progress in the race.
The Nations justly vaunted now and great--
Old days beheld them in the hunter state,
When clad in skins, and quivers on their backs,
They followed on the wild deer's bounding tracks;
Or sought, through wood and brake and fen,
The fierce and gnashing boar within his den;
Or earned a slim subsistence by the shore
Of lakes and rivers with their scaly store.
Tanned by the sun and dew, their beaten forms
Still harder fired in wintry winds and storms;
Nor homes had they save where they nightly found
Chance lodging on the bare, ungrateful ground.
Small share was here, I ween, of luxury,
Nor downy couch, nor cushioned seat had they--
Smile not-such were our own rude ancestry!
Next came the pastoral days, when men less roved,
But pitched their camps by pleasant springs, nor moved
Till pastures failed or rival flocks their bounds
Did press, intrusive on their chosen grounds.
Still 'twas a roving life, surrounded too
By foes and daily dangers not a few,
For force 'gainst force those days prevailed, and laws
Were none, and each man's arm made good his cause.
Old days beheld them in the hunter state,
When clad in skins, and quivers on their backs,
They followed on the wild deer's bounding tracks;
Or sought, through wood and brake and fen,
The fierce and gnashing boar within his den;
Or earned a slim subsistence by the shore
Of lakes and rivers with their scaly store.
Tanned by the sun and dew, their beaten forms
Still harder fired in wintry winds and storms;
Nor homes had they save where they nightly found
Chance lodging on the bare, ungrateful ground.
Small share was here, I ween, of luxury,
Nor downy couch, nor cushioned seat had they--
Smile not-such were our own rude ancestry!
Next came the pastoral days, when men less roved,
But pitched their camps by pleasant springs, nor moved
Till pastures failed or rival flocks their bounds
Did press, intrusive on their chosen grounds.
Still 'twas a roving life, surrounded too
By foes and daily dangers not a few,
For force 'gainst force those days prevailed, and laws
Were none, and each man's arm made good his cause.
But came in turn the third and better state,
With cheering omens of a higher fate.
Then, did the restless Nomad cease to roam--
His hardships o'er, he found at last his home.
From year to year he still improved his land,
Till beautiful it grew beneath his hand,
And laden vine and bleating flocks increase,
And waving fields gave all his days to peace.
Few fears alarmed him, for he knew the soil
Would aye repay with generous yield his toil.
Around him grew, with hope and joy elate,
His children fair that crowned his blest estate.
And near him soon new fields and cots were seen
Where late the brooding wilderness had been;
Then grew up mutual interests and needs,
And all that such community succeeds.
Against the still untamed and savage man
The armed alliance of the few began;
And soon Society on mutual wants arose,
With peace at home and guards against its foes.
New wants still with the social fabric grew,
And needful laws as complicate as new.
Thus government was formed, and every man
Was safe and happy in the general plan.
Secure in property and life, each wrought
In his own way and ends congenial sought
Thus fixed in homes, could be no spoiler's prey,
Each gave his sep'rate faculties free play;
And soon Invention various needs supplied
And luxuries to hardier times denied.
Meantime like states in other lands had grown,
With laws, inventions, products of their own,
What lacked one clime another clime possest,
And each could still contribute to the rest.
Thus Commerce rose, and, stimulating art,
Gave impulse to Invention and new start
To all improvements that a Nation raise
And make a people's glory, wealth and praise.
Upgrew from rude beginnings like to these
Those states renowned along the Tuscan seas,
And she who sat by Tiber's yellow tide
In pomp of riches and imperial pride.
Thus sprang those capitals of Eastern lands,
Long buried in the desert's shifting sands,
Whose fallen, rescued monuments avow,
In sculptured yoke and hieroglyphic plow,
Their debt to agricultural toil. They fell--
As fell the grand old Rome--because too well
They loved the bannered pomp of conquering war,
Neglecting arts of peace more glorious far,
While fought the soldier at a despot's will,.
The rusting plow within the field stood still,
And hosts, returning from a vanquished land,
Spread vice and luxury on every hand.
For every soldier on the tented plain
One less to prune the vine and sow the grain--
And armies counted by the million leave
Broad fields to waste that years will not retrieve.
With cheering omens of a higher fate.
Then, did the restless Nomad cease to roam--
His hardships o'er, he found at last his home.
From year to year he still improved his land,
Till beautiful it grew beneath his hand,
And laden vine and bleating flocks increase,
And waving fields gave all his days to peace.
Few fears alarmed him, for he knew the soil
Would aye repay with generous yield his toil.
Around him grew, with hope and joy elate,
His children fair that crowned his blest estate.
And near him soon new fields and cots were seen
Where late the brooding wilderness had been;
Then grew up mutual interests and needs,
And all that such community succeeds.
Against the still untamed and savage man
The armed alliance of the few began;
And soon Society on mutual wants arose,
With peace at home and guards against its foes.
New wants still with the social fabric grew,
And needful laws as complicate as new.
Thus government was formed, and every man
Was safe and happy in the general plan.
Secure in property and life, each wrought
In his own way and ends congenial sought
Thus fixed in homes, could be no spoiler's prey,
Each gave his sep'rate faculties free play;
And soon Invention various needs supplied
And luxuries to hardier times denied.
Meantime like states in other lands had grown,
With laws, inventions, products of their own,
What lacked one clime another clime possest,
And each could still contribute to the rest.
Thus Commerce rose, and, stimulating art,
Gave impulse to Invention and new start
To all improvements that a Nation raise
And make a people's glory, wealth and praise.
Upgrew from rude beginnings like to these
Those states renowned along the Tuscan seas,
And she who sat by Tiber's yellow tide
In pomp of riches and imperial pride.
Thus sprang those capitals of Eastern lands,
Long buried in the desert's shifting sands,
Whose fallen, rescued monuments avow,
In sculptured yoke and hieroglyphic plow,
Their debt to agricultural toil. They fell--
As fell the grand old Rome--because too well
They loved the bannered pomp of conquering war,
Neglecting arts of peace more glorious far,
While fought the soldier at a despot's will,.
The rusting plow within the field stood still,
And hosts, returning from a vanquished land,
Spread vice and luxury on every hand.
For every soldier on the tented plain
One less to prune the vine and sow the grain--
And armies counted by the million leave
Broad fields to waste that years will not retrieve.
As on the other continent on this
With Agriculture came true happiness,
And man advanced by sure and slow degrees
From savage toil and strife to rest and ease.
As England was in Alfred's time (The Great),
So civilized was Montezuma's state,
And burning bright his fair and peaceful star,
When Cortez came with red right hand of war.
Let truth impartial say, if happier now
Is that historic land, broad Mexico,
Than when all greenly spread the cultured plain,
And waved the far Cordilleras with grain,
And rolled the deep canals, with streams that blest
A thousand homes in Eden beauty drest,
And all the realm from mountain slope to main,
Was fair Montezuma's golden reign?
Was art, that built those cities vast, less art,
Because of Aztec genius 'twas a part?
Was patient toil, that led thro' channels deep,
And aqueducts, and 'long the rocky steep,.
The streams a thousand fertile fields supplied,
Less toil, because no white man's arm was tried?
Were peace and plenty but the Spaniard's right?
The Aztec barbarous because not white?
With Agriculture came true happiness,
And man advanced by sure and slow degrees
From savage toil and strife to rest and ease.
As England was in Alfred's time (The Great),
So civilized was Montezuma's state,
And burning bright his fair and peaceful star,
When Cortez came with red right hand of war.
Let truth impartial say, if happier now
Is that historic land, broad Mexico,
Than when all greenly spread the cultured plain,
And waved the far Cordilleras with grain,
And rolled the deep canals, with streams that blest
A thousand homes in Eden beauty drest,
And all the realm from mountain slope to main,
Was fair Montezuma's golden reign?
Was art, that built those cities vast, less art,
Because of Aztec genius 'twas a part?
Was patient toil, that led thro' channels deep,
And aqueducts, and 'long the rocky steep,.
The streams a thousand fertile fields supplied,
Less toil, because no white man's arm was tried?
Were peace and plenty but the Spaniard's right?
The Aztec barbarous because not white?
As much and more the arts of peace had done
For Peru's realm,--soft children of the Sun.
For, long before the white man's foot had pressed,
Or north or south, the Cont'nent of the West,
The Inca's sway had civilized Peru--
A land as happy as the world e'er knew!
'Twas not her temples blazing rich with gold,
And showering light from starry gems untold;
Her palaces of gorgeous pomp and pride,
Where sat her rich-robed Incas deified
Her golden statues and her carvings rare
Of bird and reptile on the burnished ware,
That made the glory of her tranquil state,
And almost won for her the title "great"!
It was her homes, by many a winding rill,
By rivers wide, in vale, on terraced hill,
Where grew the waving corn, or wand'ering fed
The fleecy flocks by watchful shepherds led;
Her pleasant cots, where sheltered from the sun,
Peruvian wives and damsels sat and spun,
Or wove their plumaged pictures-from the wings
Of tropic birds-of rare and beauteous things,
Or through the loom's ingenious workings fast
The Alpacca's fleece with skillful fingers passed.
Let paler nations vaunt themselves and praise
Their slow advancement from the savage days;
If government is wisest that's designed
For good of greatest number of the kind,
Methinks no just philosophy will scan
With scornful eyes the Peru Indian's plan--
A policy which gave with equal hand
To each his due proportion of the land,
And each his share of what the general toil
Produced from manufacture or the soil..
As labor was enjoined on all, so none
Could suffer when the seasoned work was done.
As all, too, labored duly for the State,
If sickness fell or any evil fate,
The State provided, not as charity
But right, for him whose former industry,
Still looking to the common weal in this,
Had swelled her coffers and her granaries.
In all the realm no subject could be poor,
But peace and plenty sat at each man's door.
No happier lot the poet's dream can find,
Nor Art nor Science reach for human kind;
Not all the Old World's civilization vast,
Nor yet our own, the grandest and the last,
To that one culminating point has come--
To give each man a competence and home.
For Peru's realm,--soft children of the Sun.
For, long before the white man's foot had pressed,
Or north or south, the Cont'nent of the West,
The Inca's sway had civilized Peru--
A land as happy as the world e'er knew!
'Twas not her temples blazing rich with gold,
And showering light from starry gems untold;
Her palaces of gorgeous pomp and pride,
Where sat her rich-robed Incas deified
Her golden statues and her carvings rare
Of bird and reptile on the burnished ware,
That made the glory of her tranquil state,
And almost won for her the title "great"!
It was her homes, by many a winding rill,
By rivers wide, in vale, on terraced hill,
Where grew the waving corn, or wand'ering fed
The fleecy flocks by watchful shepherds led;
Her pleasant cots, where sheltered from the sun,
Peruvian wives and damsels sat and spun,
Or wove their plumaged pictures-from the wings
Of tropic birds-of rare and beauteous things,
Or through the loom's ingenious workings fast
The Alpacca's fleece with skillful fingers passed.
Let paler nations vaunt themselves and praise
Their slow advancement from the savage days;
If government is wisest that's designed
For good of greatest number of the kind,
Methinks no just philosophy will scan
With scornful eyes the Peru Indian's plan--
A policy which gave with equal hand
To each his due proportion of the land,
And each his share of what the general toil
Produced from manufacture or the soil..
As labor was enjoined on all, so none
Could suffer when the seasoned work was done.
As all, too, labored duly for the State,
If sickness fell or any evil fate,
The State provided, not as charity
But right, for him whose former industry,
Still looking to the common weal in this,
Had swelled her coffers and her granaries.
In all the realm no subject could be poor,
But peace and plenty sat at each man's door.
No happier lot the poet's dream can find,
Nor Art nor Science reach for human kind;
Not all the Old World's civilization vast,
Nor yet our own, the grandest and the last,
To that one culminating point has come--
To give each man a competence and home.
Thus in her own rude way' our muse has shown
How man in all that blesses him has grown
With Agriculture and the arts of peace,
And how with them these blessings still increase--
The mind and heart still growing with the growth
Of that which first gave training unto both.
For while the genius of the plow and spade
Improvement still on willing nature made--
The cultured flower expanding. into size
Unknown before and tinct with richer dyes,
New forms assuming from the fecund dust
Not left to chance and to the zephyr's trust,
But, like with unlike pollen mixed, till strange
Creations bloomed and wonder marked the change;
The human soul, the Man, expanded too,
And found in realms of thought the strange and new.
How man in all that blesses him has grown
With Agriculture and the arts of peace,
And how with them these blessings still increase--
The mind and heart still growing with the growth
Of that which first gave training unto both.
For while the genius of the plow and spade
Improvement still on willing nature made--
The cultured flower expanding. into size
Unknown before and tinct with richer dyes,
New forms assuming from the fecund dust
Not left to chance and to the zephyr's trust,
But, like with unlike pollen mixed, till strange
Creations bloomed and wonder marked the change;
The human soul, the Man, expanded too,
And found in realms of thought the strange and new.
A pleasant task were ours, could we so grace
Our pen, the history of the plow to trace--
Its allied helps of Science and the Arts,
And all that to its reign new strength imparts;
How in the Roman and the Grecian sway
It made the glory of their proudest day;
How it for ages knew but small regard,
When warriors fought and sang the warrior bard;
How after times sought knowledge that was hid
In monkish cells the mountain rocks amid,
And drew from monasterial lore and skill
The ancient art the fruitful earth to till;
How pruning, grafting came; how science found
New modes to fertilize the failing ground--
Ammonia's properties, the silicates,
The strength of guano, phosphates, and their mates,
And whatsoever else may give the earth
Its fecund power and swelling joy of birth;
And how Improvement with the years kept pace,
And Agriculture blest the human race.
Our pen, the history of the plow to trace--
Its allied helps of Science and the Arts,
And all that to its reign new strength imparts;
How in the Roman and the Grecian sway
It made the glory of their proudest day;
How it for ages knew but small regard,
When warriors fought and sang the warrior bard;
How after times sought knowledge that was hid
In monkish cells the mountain rocks amid,
And drew from monasterial lore and skill
The ancient art the fruitful earth to till;
How pruning, grafting came; how science found
New modes to fertilize the failing ground--
Ammonia's properties, the silicates,
The strength of guano, phosphates, and their mates,
And whatsoever else may give the earth
Its fecund power and swelling joy of birth;
And how Improvement with the years kept pace,
And Agriculture blest the human race.
But now we turn, a not ungrateful theme,
To realize the El Dorado dream
In that one land which all that dream fulfills--
The land whose name the world's heart thrills--
Our own unequaled, Golden State! the clime
Of wonder, cynosure of modern time!
What silver word, what golden line can say
The half its worth, its matchless wealth portray?
If soars the muse along her mountain chains
Where Grandeur, snow-crowned, rocky-girdled reigns;
Or glides adown her golden-sanded streams;
Or with the miner plunges deep where gleams,
Mysterious in the hill's eternal night,
The ore revealed by dimly-flickering light;
Or seeks along the barren, ghostly coast,
The caverned realms where, in black basins tost,
The springs of bitumen boil up to sight;
Or wings to Napa's weirdful land her flight,
Where, bursting forth from many a fissured rock,
With hot but healing breath and angry shock,
The imprisoned demon of the earth makes known
His fearful presence in the under-zone;
Or penetrates where Labor seeks its gains
In Santa Clara's quick, mercurial veins;
Or Shasta's treasure-laden ground explores,
Her springs of salt, her marble, and her ores;
Or scans in Calaveras' mammoth pride
The trunks three thousand winters have defied,
Where'er in all this sunset-land she flies,
New signs, new wonders meet her maz-ed eyes.
To realize the El Dorado dream
In that one land which all that dream fulfills--
The land whose name the world's heart thrills--
Our own unequaled, Golden State! the clime
Of wonder, cynosure of modern time!
What silver word, what golden line can say
The half its worth, its matchless wealth portray?
If soars the muse along her mountain chains
Where Grandeur, snow-crowned, rocky-girdled reigns;
Or glides adown her golden-sanded streams;
Or with the miner plunges deep where gleams,
Mysterious in the hill's eternal night,
The ore revealed by dimly-flickering light;
Or seeks along the barren, ghostly coast,
The caverned realms where, in black basins tost,
The springs of bitumen boil up to sight;
Or wings to Napa's weirdful land her flight,
Where, bursting forth from many a fissured rock,
With hot but healing breath and angry shock,
The imprisoned demon of the earth makes known
His fearful presence in the under-zone;
Or penetrates where Labor seeks its gains
In Santa Clara's quick, mercurial veins;
Or Shasta's treasure-laden ground explores,
Her springs of salt, her marble, and her ores;
Or scans in Calaveras' mammoth pride
The trunks three thousand winters have defied,
Where'er in all this sunset-land she flies,
New signs, new wonders meet her maz-ed eyes.
But California's glory is not told
By wealth of resource like to this-her gold,
Her hidden riches in the earth, her stores
Of precious undeveloped things, her ores,
Her quarries vast, her springs medicinal--
Beyond all these and far surpassing all
Akin to these, her Agriculture stands,
The pride of earth, the envy of all lands!
Prolific soil! within itself it yields
Of every clime the fruits. Its smiling fields
The tasseled maize affords; the waving wheat,
Hemp, rice ; the jointed cane with essence sweet;
The many-seeded fig; its tropic mate;
The oily olive, tamarind, and date;
The pear and peach; the grape, as rare and fine
In all that gilds the immemorial vine,
As ever grew in shepherd days of peace,
In native beauty on the hills of Greece--
Or wild in woods that skirt the Arabian sea
The wandering savage fed with bounty free--
Or in Italia's purpled vales did hang
To lips as ripe, that I-brace kissed and sang.
Here grow those garden monsters that surprise
Like miracles our scarce-believing eyes,
Reminding us of that Titanic age
Recorded in the geologic page,
When shrubs were trees, and plants that now in lines
Our gardens green, had dwarfed Norwegian pines.
Of .that same soil, which thus prolific threw
Those giants forth, when yet the world was new,
Our soil partakes. And thus we leave behind
All climes and lands, and wonder-strike mankind.
Fair Land! but fairer yet shall be--for still
Shall Industry her hills and valleys till,
And Agriculture write on many a spot
Her name in verdure, where before 'twas not.
As Franklin his, when wondering rustics saw
A miracle in Nature's simplest law.
By wealth of resource like to this-her gold,
Her hidden riches in the earth, her stores
Of precious undeveloped things, her ores,
Her quarries vast, her springs medicinal--
Beyond all these and far surpassing all
Akin to these, her Agriculture stands,
The pride of earth, the envy of all lands!
Prolific soil! within itself it yields
Of every clime the fruits. Its smiling fields
The tasseled maize affords; the waving wheat,
Hemp, rice ; the jointed cane with essence sweet;
The many-seeded fig; its tropic mate;
The oily olive, tamarind, and date;
The pear and peach; the grape, as rare and fine
In all that gilds the immemorial vine,
As ever grew in shepherd days of peace,
In native beauty on the hills of Greece--
Or wild in woods that skirt the Arabian sea
The wandering savage fed with bounty free--
Or in Italia's purpled vales did hang
To lips as ripe, that I-brace kissed and sang.
Here grow those garden monsters that surprise
Like miracles our scarce-believing eyes,
Reminding us of that Titanic age
Recorded in the geologic page,
When shrubs were trees, and plants that now in lines
Our gardens green, had dwarfed Norwegian pines.
Of .that same soil, which thus prolific threw
Those giants forth, when yet the world was new,
Our soil partakes. And thus we leave behind
All climes and lands, and wonder-strike mankind.
Fair Land! but fairer yet shall be--for still
Shall Industry her hills and valleys till,
And Agriculture write on many a spot
Her name in verdure, where before 'twas not.
As Franklin his, when wondering rustics saw
A miracle in Nature's simplest law.
'Tis Irrigation, wondrous art, though old,
With aids of modern science manifold,
Shall work the magic change we yet shall see,
When all the desert lands shall cultured be;
When from the Sacramento's margin green,
Or tule borders of the San Joaquin,
To eastern peaks, whose curving line of show
Like some white arm of beauty all aglow
With love, enwreaths the nestling hills below;
From yonder western slopes that lave
Their feet within the blue Pacific's wave
To woods infringing on the arid plain
That heated ripples to the mountain chain;
From Northern heights of rugged Siskiyou
Whose vales abysmal hide from view,
To where the smoothly shaven waters ply
In sheltered San Diego's tranquil bay;
The land shall blossom with its edens fair,
The fruitful hills make fragrant all the air,
And breezy valleys wave their yellow hair.
For, mark you, Art, with Science aid, shall make
Spots fertile which the ignorant forsake;
And all that weary waste of hazy heat,
O'er which the heron's lonely wing doth beat
In effort vain some moistured spot to find
Shall prove to man's enlightened labor kind.
The hidden fountains of the earth shall rise,
And mock with coolness all the brazen skies;
The piercing steel shall strike the secret vein
That, bursting forth, shall fertilize the plain.
And soon where late no blade or leaf was seen
Shall orchards bloom and waving fields be green.
Oh Land of Beauty! why the theme prolong?
Like that delicious isle of Indian song,
Which, o'er the waters gliding, fled pursuit,
Thou hast all gems, all wealth, all golden fruit,
And, far more blest than Indian dreamers were,
We lose thee not, a vision of the air!
With aids of modern science manifold,
Shall work the magic change we yet shall see,
When all the desert lands shall cultured be;
When from the Sacramento's margin green,
Or tule borders of the San Joaquin,
To eastern peaks, whose curving line of show
Like some white arm of beauty all aglow
With love, enwreaths the nestling hills below;
From yonder western slopes that lave
Their feet within the blue Pacific's wave
To woods infringing on the arid plain
That heated ripples to the mountain chain;
From Northern heights of rugged Siskiyou
Whose vales abysmal hide from view,
To where the smoothly shaven waters ply
In sheltered San Diego's tranquil bay;
The land shall blossom with its edens fair,
The fruitful hills make fragrant all the air,
And breezy valleys wave their yellow hair.
For, mark you, Art, with Science aid, shall make
Spots fertile which the ignorant forsake;
And all that weary waste of hazy heat,
O'er which the heron's lonely wing doth beat
In effort vain some moistured spot to find
Shall prove to man's enlightened labor kind.
The hidden fountains of the earth shall rise,
And mock with coolness all the brazen skies;
The piercing steel shall strike the secret vein
That, bursting forth, shall fertilize the plain.
And soon where late no blade or leaf was seen
Shall orchards bloom and waving fields be green.
Oh Land of Beauty! why the theme prolong?
Like that delicious isle of Indian song,
Which, o'er the waters gliding, fled pursuit,
Thou hast all gems, all wealth, all golden fruit,
And, far more blest than Indian dreamers were,
We lose thee not, a vision of the air!
[[*Delivered]
before the Agricultural, Horticultural, and Mechanic's Society of the Northern District of California, on Wednesday Evening, August 5th, 1860.]
| The Poems of John Rollin Ridge -- A reproduction of the 1868
publication plus fugitive poems and notes. | |