THE PIONEER OF CHICAGO
My dead daughter's daughter, my own Gretchen Gray,
The spring-time again has began,
I can hear the warm winds through the cotton-woods play
On the shores of the blue Michigan.
The wind-flower is blooming; I'm fourscore to-day,
My dreams the eventful springs span
Since first as a boy on the star-grass I lay,
On the shores of the blue Michigan.
The Illini's tents 'mid the green hazels burned,
The deer through the cool sedges ran
As my boat from the pines of the Mackinaw turned
Toward the shores of the blue Michigan.
I remember the day when the Great Council met, —
The oak-leaves to fall had began;
I saw the dark chiefs and their looks of regret
As they stood by the blue Michigan.
And I saw near to-night, in the lone autumn light,
Their plumes disappear till the van
Of the Illini old, in the showers of gold,
Left behind them the blue Michigan.
Their plumes gray and white, at that coming of night,
I saw the brown prairie span,
And fade on the dark as the even star's spark
Lit the waves of the blue Michigan.
The Illini — theirs was what history unknown,
What ages the eye could not scan!
I wept on that eve when the bugles were blown
On the shores of the blue Michigan.
The crow from his crumbling nest watched them as slow
The far trail they threaded; and ran
The prairie-dogs 'mid the children, and low
Sighed the reeds of the blue Michigan.
On, on to the West, to the Great River's tide,
On, on 'neath the white stranger's ban,
And never the chief or the maid turned aside
To look back on the blue Michigan.
All places are pleasant where good has been done,
So the thought of young Nicholet ran,
As the Recollets' ways, 'neath the midsummer sun,
He mapped on the blue Michigan.
'Twas a wilderness then: roamed the buffalo free
In the ways seldom trodden by man,
And I planted my cabin and cotton-wood tree
On the shores of the blue Michigan.
Then a village arose, then a town, and at last
The spires of a city began
To hang their sweet bells o'er the wilderness vast
And the waves of the blue Michigan.
I am fourscore to-day — like a vision it comes,
I made for this city its plan,
And I built with these hands the first wilderness homes
On the shores of the blue Michigan.
Men came, — whence I know not, — the world gathered here;
Thence Progress her iron roads ran, —
And the steam-clouds, forever, in suns shining clear,
Hung bright o'er the blue Michigan.
The city grew wondrous, her sails filled the lake,
Her palaces trade here began;
The hawk left the sky and the sedge-bird the brake.
And Peace filled the blue Michigan.
Then I saw the brigades as they marched to the war;
The old flags the lake breezes fan;
For Lincoln I heard the bells tolling in awe,
On the shores of the blue Michigan.
I saw the red lake when the billows of fire
O'er the marts and trade-palaces ran;
When fell into ashes the temple and spire
On the shores of the blue Michigan.
I am fourscore to-day, Gretchen Gray, Gretchen Gray,
And I made for this city its plan,
And I hear the west winds through the cotton-woods play,
As of old, on the blue Michigan.
But look! where she lies, the great heart of the West,
And offers his birthright to man,
And opens her gates to the peoples oppressed,
The pride of the blue Michigan;
Where labor is honor, and toil finds its due,
Where grows great humanity's plan; —
My dead daughter's daughter, my days will be few,
On the shores of the blue Michigan.
My days are but few, Gretchen Gray, Gretchen Gray;
And, when is accomplished life's span,
My form by the side of the pioneers lay,
On the shores of the blue Michigan.
I see her, fair city, the crown of the West,
That labor has builded for man.
My toils have been blest; and I ask but to rest
On the shores of the blue Michigan.
The wind-flower is blooming; I'm fourscore today,
My dreams the eventful years span
Since first as a boy on the star-grass I lay,
On the shores of the blue Michigan.