You've built up quite a city here, with stately business blocks, and
wires a-running far and near, and handsome concrete walks. The trolley
cars go whizzing by, and smoke from noisy mills is trailing slowly to
the sky, and blotting out the hills. And thirty years ago I stood upon
this same old mound, with not a house of brick or wood for twenty miles
around! I'm mighty glad to be alive, to see the change you've made;
it's good to watch this human hive, and hear the hum of trade!
I list to the moans and wails
Of your town, with its toiling hands,
But O for the lonely trails
That led to the unknown lands!
[Illustration: The Old Timer]
I used to camp right where we stand, among these motor cars, and
silence brooded o'er the land, as I lay 'neath the stars, save when the
drowsy cattle lowed, or when a broncho neighed; and now you have an
asphalt road, and palaces of trade! We hear the clamor of the host on
every wind that blows, when people take the time to boast of how their
city grows! I do not doubt that you will rise to greater heights of
fame, and maybe paint across the skies your city's lustrous name!
I list to the ceaseless tramp
Of the host, with its hopes and fears;
But O for the midnight camp
And the sound of the milling steers!