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A Home out West

by Ellen P. Allerton

A "Prairie schooner," creeping slow,
Away-worn, jaded household band,
In eager voices speaking low—
Thus enter we the "Promised land."
Behind us now the river's tide,
Rolls dark and murk, deep and wide.


A warm May day; a sweet soft rain
On a green prairie falling fast;
A stopping of the creeping wane,
And the glad cry, "we are home at last."
After long weeks of travel sore,
The goal is won; we ask no more.

Home! With our roof the dripping sky,
Our floor the rainsoaked prairie's breast!
Through all the wastes that round us lie,
In wild, luxuriant verdure dressed,
No tree extends its friendly bough,
We seek no track of spade or plow.


A year has fled. What wondrous change
Has passed this way? What sorcery,
What silent magic, swift and strange,
Has wrought such wonders? Come and see!
Where are the green wastes, soaked with rain?
You seek thera? You shall seek in vain.

Spring smiles again; the sunbeams play
On gabled roof and crystal pane.
Spring smiles again; and skies of May
Bend o'er broad fields of waving grain.
Here are young orchards; and the breeze
Bends the lithe limbs of forest trees.

The spring rains beat on snowy walls,
Comely, though plain, snug built and strong;
Through vine wreathed windows sunshine falls,
With cheerful smile, the whole day long;
And happy faces, fresh and bright,
Are gathered around the lamps at night.

Our prairie home is sweet and dear;
The deep rich soil holds honest wealth,
The airs we breathe are pure and clear;
The free, strong winds waft life and health.
Here dwells content from day to day;
So—let the great world go its way

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