A Roundelay of Salt Lake

A ROUNDELAY OF SALT LAKE. BY JOAQUIN MILLER, IN THE SAN FRANCISCO "BULLETIN." When President Roosevelt was on his western trip last summer the various cities he visited endeavored each to out-do the other in the nature of the welcome extended the distinguished guest. The women of Salt Lake City seemed to extend the most unique welcome; in that city they greeted the chief with thousands of babes in their arms. The pink-faced infants cooed a welcome at Mr. Roosevelt that filled his big heart with joy, and doubtless if he were to have been called upon to decide as to the city to which belonged the honor for the most appreciated entertainment, he would have decided in favor of Salt Lake. Mr. Roosevelt's expressed regret, in an address delivered some time previous, that the old-fashioned, prolific American mother was becoming a thing of the past, is said to have sug- gested to the Salt Lake women this unusual welcome to the Pres- ident. i. Beneath our forty stars is she The purest woman, sweetest, best, Who loves her spouse most ardently And rocks the cradle oftenest; Whose home is filled, whose heart is fed With halo of a baby's head. ii. How pitiful that we must pay And pension man for killing man, While woman brings forth as she may, Unpaid, unpensioned, as she can; Gives life while man takes life away.

A ROUNDELAY OF SALT LAKE. 411 Gives life, gives love because she must. How sad that we must pension, pay Our tallest, bravest and our best For killing brave men, east or west, Until our race is in the dust, As Greece is in the dust to-day; A tomb of glory gone away. in. I say the mothers of strong men, Strong men and merry men and tall, Must build, must man the Spartan wall And keep it stoutly manned as when Greece won the world, nor wrecked at all. I say that she must man the wall. The wall of breasts, unshielded, bare, The wall to do, the wall to dare, The wall of men, or we must fall. I say that she, strong-limbed and fair, Deserves the pay, the pension, care. IV. Of all brave, heartfelt welcomes found Where flowers strew the fragrant ground, And rainbow banners fret the air By city, hamlet, anywhere, In Midland, Southland, Northland, West, I reckon Utah's first and best. v. Not guns to greet the nation's chief, Not trumpets blaring to the sun, Not scars of glory and of grief, Not thrice told tales of battles fought, Not seas of flowers at his feet, Not bold to glitter and to greet, But Utah brought her babes, and brought Not one babe fretted or afraid, Not one that cried or wailed, not one. Oh, what to this the booming gun? Oh, what to this the loud parade? Proud troop to. troop poured manifold In battle banners rampt with gold?

412 IMPROVEMENT ERA. VI. Just babies, babies, healthful, fair, From where the Wasatch lion leaps, From sunless snows, from desert deeps, Just babies, babies, everywhere; Just babes in arms, at mother's breast, And robust boys with girls at play, With pounding fists, too full to rest; As chubby, fat, as fair as they. VII. Behold yon seas of alkali, Of sand, of salt, of dried up seas, Then shelter by these watered trees And humbly dare to question why These countless babes, these mothers, aye, The maid in love, the lad at play, All seem so gladsome, bright and gay? VIII. Who tented here, who brake the sod, Subdued the Artemisia's strength With patient Ruth at ready call? Who faced the red man at arm's length And she beside him first to fall, And while he prayed the living God? Who gat such babes as never man Had looked upon since time began? And why?
Because the loving sire Loved life and hated low desire; He loved his babes, he loved his kind By desert waste of mountain wind; He watched his happy babes at play The while he gloried, glad as they. IX. This John the Baptist, naked, lean, Lorn, crying in the wilderness, This half fanatic, Luther, Huss, Whom we once mocked in his distress, Stands better than the best of us;

A ROUNDELAY OF SALT LAKE. 413 Stands nearer Jesus, God, because He loves His babes, obeys His laws — Because his hands, his feet are clean; Because he loves his hearth, his home, And patient heaps the honeycomb. x. Behold yon million desert miles With scarce a plow, with scant a tree, Save where this desert garden smiles And robust babes leap merrily! Behold our boundless seas, as chare Of sails as yonder peaks are bare! XL Then give us babes, babes of your own, My meddling congressmen and men Of cloth, with great brains in the chin; Glad babes like these to prow the seas, Strong babes like these to plow or spin, And let this Bedouin alone. Yea, give us babes at home, where now Ye hide and house on every street Such things as 'twere a shame to meet — Glad babes to build and guide the prow, Possess the isles, protect and bear The star-built banner here — or there! Till then, hands off, my Pharisee, And tend your own affairs, as they, Of Utah tend their own to-day, Lest from the mouths of babes ye be Condemned and damned eternally!