Beautiful tower! famous in history
Rich in legend, in old-time mystery,
Graced with tales of Indian lore,
Crowned with beauty from summit to shore.
Below, winds the river, silent and still,
Nestling so calmly 'mid island and hill,
Above, like warriors, proudly and grand,
Tower the forest trees, monarchs of land.
A land mark for all to admire and wonder,
With thy history ancient, for nations to ponder,
Boldly thou liftest they head to the breeze,
Crowned with they plumes, the nodding trees.
Years are now gone--forever more fled,
Since the Indians crept, with cat-like tread,
With mocasined foot, with eagle eye--
The red men our foes in ambush lie.
The owl, still his nightly vigil keeps,
While the river, below him, peacefully sleeps,
The whip-poor-will utters his plaintive cry,
The trees still whisper, and gently sigh.
The pale moon still creeps from her daily rest,
Throwing her rays o'er the river's dark breast,
The katy-did and cricket, I trow,
In days gone by, chirruped, even as now.
Indian! thy camp-fires no longer are smoldering,
They bones 'neath the forest moss long have been mouldering,
The "Great Spirit" claims thee. He leadeth they tribe,
To new hunting-grounds not won with a bribe.
On thy Watch Tow'r the pale face his home now makes,
His dwelling, the site of the forest tree takes,
Gone are thy wigwams, the wild deer now fled,
Black Hawk, with his tribe, lie silent and dead.
ROCK ISLAND, August 18, 1882.