THE CITY OF PORTLAND
601
As related to the great future of the city, with a coloring distinctly Oregon and Columbian, her poem—"Sunset at the Mouth of the Columbia," written one evening in 1865 while sitting on the hill back of Astoria—is here given in full.
There sinks the sun; like cavalier of old,
Servant of crafty Spain.
He flaunts his banner, barred with blood and gold
Wide o'er the western main;
A thousand spearheads glint beyond the trees
In columns bright and long.
While kindling fancy hears upon the breeze
The swell of shout and song.
Servant of crafty Spain.
He flaunts his banner, barred with blood and gold
Wide o'er the western main;
A thousand spearheads glint beyond the trees
In columns bright and long.
While kindling fancy hears upon the breeze
The swell of shout and song.
And yet, not here Spain's gay, adventurous host
Dipped sword or planted cross;
The treasures guarded by this rock bound coast,
Counted them gain nor loss,
The Blue Columbia, sired by the eternal hills.
And wedded with the sea.
O'er golden sands, tithes from a thousand rills,
Rolled in lone majesty.
Dipped sword or planted cross;
The treasures guarded by this rock bound coast,
Counted them gain nor loss,
The Blue Columbia, sired by the eternal hills.
And wedded with the sea.
O'er golden sands, tithes from a thousand rills,
Rolled in lone majesty.
Through deep ravine, through burning barren plain.
Through wild and rocky strait.
Through forests dark, and mountains rent in twain.
Toward the sunset gate,
While curious eyes, keen with the lust of gold,
Caught not the informing gleam.
These mighty breakers, age on age have rolled
To meet the mighty stream.
Through wild and rocky strait.
Through forests dark, and mountains rent in twain.
Toward the sunset gate,
While curious eyes, keen with the lust of gold,
Caught not the informing gleam.
These mighty breakers, age on age have rolled
To meet the mighty stream.
Age after age these noble hills have kept,
The same majestic lines;
Age after age the horizon's edge been swept
By fringe of pointed pines.
Summers and Winter's circling came and went
Bringing no change of scene;
Unresting, and unhasting, and unspent,
Dwelt nature here serene.
The same majestic lines;
Age after age the horizon's edge been swept
By fringe of pointed pines.
Summers and Winter's circling came and went
Bringing no change of scene;
Unresting, and unhasting, and unspent,
Dwelt nature here serene.
Till God's own time to plant of Freedom's seed.
In this selected soil.
Denied forever unto blood and greed,
But blest to honest toil.
There sinks the sun! Gay cavalier no more
His banners trail the sea.
And all his legions shining on the shore
Fade into mystery.
In this selected soil.
Denied forever unto blood and greed,
But blest to honest toil.
There sinks the sun! Gay cavalier no more
His banners trail the sea.
And all his legions shining on the shore
Fade into mystery.
The swelling tide laps on the shingly beach
Like any starving thing,
And hungry breakers, white with wrath upreach.
In a vain clamoring.
Like any starving thing,
And hungry breakers, white with wrath upreach.
In a vain clamoring.
