Cofachiqui, and Other Poems/Grant County

by Castello Newton Holford

GRANT COUNTY (Wisconsin).

Her thousand miles of hill and plain,With mines of lead and fields of grain,Are richer, broader and more grandThan many a petty prince's land.In curves along her northern sideThe broad Wisconsin's tribute tideO'er shifting sands or rocky floorSweeps grandly fifteen leagues or more.Adown it sped Marquette's canoeTwo hundred years ago and two.Along this vale the bluffs rise tallAnd seem gigantic fortress wall,With many a rocky bastion setAnd many a turf-grown parapet,While deep ravine or narrow dellIs port or gateway guarded well,From Muscoda and BoscobelAnd Millville in her "pocket" deep,Down to the Mississippi's sweep.

Along Grant County's western sideRolls down a vast and world-famed tide.Its cliffs are Nature's castles boldThat ages since were gray and old.The ruined castles of the Rhine,Though sung in many a sounding lineAnd given by many a page to fame,Compared with these are poor and tame.The poet of another age,When all forgot is Byron's page,May gem his line with Cassville's nameAnd give its cliffs an age of fame,Or sketch with inspiration's penGlen Haven's deep, romantic glen,And Wyalusing's hills and dellsMake famed o'er Scotia's glens and fells. Emerging from these rocky hills,Blake's Prairie's fertile region fills  The traveler's gladdened eyes.Beyond the limits of his gazeStretch fields where grow the wheat and maize;Like islands in the billowy seaRise groves of oak and cotton tree,With breasts bared 'gainst the wild winds' sweepAnd sheltered in this friendly keep  Full many a farm-house lies.Go when the leafy month of JuneHas brought the heaven and earth in tune;Go where yon prairie joins the woods,Wouldst thou see Nature's loveliest moods  And feast thy soul on scenery.'T is there the waves of emerald grainWhich cover all the billowy plainAre met and stayed by forest shoreWhich lifts its darker mass before  In cliffs of vivid greenery.

Around this lovely prairie's hemAre pearls set 'round a diadem—A village fair is each white gem.Among them Bloomington is seen,Of all West Grant the jaunty queen,Enthroned within a low, green vale,Just where the highland prairies fail.Upon the prairie's northern boundPatch Grove, a quiet burg, is found.Although it seems a rustic ville,Its homes a cultured people fill.

From Beetown in her narrow glenSoutheastward miles a score and ten,Stretches a region rude and wildWith rocks on hills confusedly piled,Concealing in deep rifts the ore Which hither drew in days of yoreThe foot of venturous pioneerWhere roamed the Indian and the deer.Then was Potosi's day of pride,Her flood on fortune's changing tide.

Far in the southeast corner thereIs Hazel Green; its landscape fairOf our regard claims but a share,  For Percival here sleeps.O noble soul! O gifted one!As modest as a cloistered maid,Thou lovedst the glare of noonday sunLess than the dingle's quiet shade,  Where soft the wild vine creeps.Too precious for a brazen ageWhom grosser things of earth engageWas thine high-souled and glorious line,Thy genius delicate, divine.

Go northward. See against the skyThe spires of Platteville rising high;And see those walls of limestone grayLoom up against the waning day.It is the Normal—'t is the prideOf Platteville—yea, Grant County wide.

Northward from Platteville stretching farA tier of wealthy towns there are.All I have said of Blake's beforeMay of the region be told o'erWhich lies 'tween Lima's southern boundAnd Montfort's prairie vale, and 'roundTo the high lands of Fennimore.

Upon the culminating swellOf hill and prairie, sited wellTo be such land's proud coronal,Stands old Grant County's capital. Its brave brick blocks and fair white homes,Its taper spires and swelling domes,Those marbles white which mutely tellWho for their country fought and fell,  Are always fair—but comeWhen May shall fill your lingering sightWith apple blossoms pink and white,And leaf-buds green, and this delight  Is swelled with rich perfume.