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Poems by the End of the Oregon Trail


J.V. Laswell

Whether he lived by the River Clyde
Or dwelt near an English fen;
When a beautious bride stood by his side
He joined the ranks of man.

They loved and lived their whole lives through
Until their hair turned gray;
And sons and daughters then stepped forth
Upon _their_ wedding day.

So generations came and went
In Britain far away;
Till couples young and couples old
Set forth in the month of May.

For the ocean trip, they took along
Their meager funds and stores;
And were glad indeed, after many weeks
To see New England's shores.

As pioneers, this sturdy group
Found life both rough and sweet;
And sometimes cut extremely short
When mixed with the war-drum's beat.

Those who survived worked hard each year
Their cabins to renew;
Thus, ever westward they pressed on
Though sometimes there were few.

A wee young Scot trod weary miles
To be with next of kin;
And grew to build a big sod house
Where the prairie dogs' had been.

So onward rolled the wagon trains
To the Rockies and beyond;
Even to the Great Northwest
Where rolled the Oregon.

J. V. Laswell
Copyright ©1990 J. V. Laswell.

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