Rosebay and manzanita,
With a cheerful red and green,
Have woven o'er the hillsides
A bright and pretty screen;
And those by the willows sleeping
Would never wake nor swear,
If the hated Chinese lingo
Did not cruise along the air.
With a cheerful red and green,
Have woven o'er the hillsides
A bright and pretty screen;
And those by the willows sleeping
Would never wake nor swear,
If the hated Chinese lingo
Did not cruise along the air.
The roaring days are over,
The golden sands have run,
The fiddler has his guerdon,
While the boys have had their fun;
But there were pay-streaks of manhood
In their bold hearts, we know,
Down close to the solid bed-rock,
And not for surface show.
The golden sands have run,
The fiddler has his guerdon,
While the boys have had their fun;
But there were pay-streaks of manhood
In their bold hearts, we know,
Down close to the solid bed-rock,
And not for surface show.
MEMALUSE ISLAND
[This island lying in the Columbia River has since time immemorial been the burying ground of the Indians.]
Where the King of Hesperian rivers,
Columbia, with glimmering sweep,
And a passionate bosom that quivers
In a dream of the mystical deep,
Exults in his empire eternal
And the myriad rush of his waves,
Is an island of sadness supernal—
A desolate kingdom of graves;
Columbia, with glimmering sweep,
And a passionate bosom that quivers
In a dream of the mystical deep,
Exults in his empire eternal
And the myriad rush of his waves,
Is an island of sadness supernal—
A desolate kingdom of graves;
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