Poems (Merrill)/Song of the Grangers'

by Clara A. Merrill

SONG OF THE GRANGERS'

(Written for Mountain Grange)

Away o'er the hills, or thro' valleys,
Wherever I happen to be;
Tis wafted along by the breezes,
And comes like sweet music to me,
As on, by the wayside I wander
A Brother I happen to meet,—
The hand-grasp is ever most cordial
And this is the way that we greet,—
        Goin't the Grange?

I stroll mid the tall waving grasses
Where the laurel and sweet brier springs-
Thence on, to the deep-shadow'd woodland
Where the brooklet so merrilly sings—
How lulling the chirp of the cricket—
How drowsy the hum of the bees.—
I start.—for a voice speaking near me
In deep tones utters words such as these—
        Goin't the Grange?

Oh! the tables so loaded with dainties
We hail with the keenest delight;
The fruit, pies, and cake, we all welcome
With faces so happy and bright.
There's naught like the rich, amber coffee
Great fervor and zest to impart—
While the savory baked beans arid brown bread
E'er touch a deep chord in the heart—
      Goin't the Grange?

Grange!——— name so laden with beauty
I hail with the greatest of glee;
I love it, our dear banded Order—
And ever a Granger I'll be!
Oft I long as the season approaches
The time for a "meeting" again
To hear from the tumult of voices
Re-echo this gladsome refrain:—
      Goin't the Grange?

And may the bright Star of! the Heavens
Ever guard and guide us aright—
May we all many times be permitted
To meet here in ardent delight.
May we ever be true to our Master—
Prove faithful and honest in all;
And be ready to answer the summons
When the One great Master shall call
      To a higher and nobler Grange.