The Song of a Pioneer

THE SONG OF A PIONEER. (For the Improvement Era) Give back to me the liberty Give back the wood where beauty stood. Of our sires so true and brave, The wild to its refrain. When the sunset zone was all their own, But give to me the joy to see From the mountain down to the wave. The reign of truth again. Give back to me the harmony The hearty grip of fellowship. Of the virgin wood and stream; So deep, so strong, so true; The empty soil with its honest toil, The toil whose trial begets a smile, The hardship with a dream. And cheers the world for you. Take back the gold that manifold The sage-brush blaze, with its song of Has wrought its wreck since then praise. The wealth that mocks the truth, and The field of waving grain locks The camp so free with its unity The hands and hearts of men. The hut on the rolling plain. Turn back the tide of lust and pride The candle light with its peaceful night, That rules humanity. The sweet breath, all the while The day that brings the better things, Blown up to me from yonder sea, Oh, give it back to me. Like odor from the Nile. Give back to me the penury The wind that wakes upon the lakes, That binds the souls of men. Refreshes in the rain, And makes them strong against the Descends and sups the sego cups, wrong. And sweetens all the plain. And sets them free again. The flaming sea that took from me Then every brook, a picture book The prone sun in his flight; Was mine and beauty's too; The old regime of canyon stream And every man was a brother then. That sung to us at night. And every heart was true. The random cloud that called aloud Give back to me simplicity To all the empty plain, The hand and heart that fear And coaxed the field to turn and yield The lot they share without a prayer, A crop of golden grain. And the day of the Pioneer. Salt Lake City, Utah. Theo. E. Cur.Tif.