:^- :f ^M^r >•■- .^' V %. 'by j.°^*. ,0 '^• Songs of Montana And Other Verse FREDERICK R. WOOLLEY The lonely sunsets flame and die; The giant valleys gulp the nlgbt; The monster mountains scrape the sky, Where eager stars are diamond-bright. —Robert W. Service, 1919 Songs o f Montana And Other Verse -By- FREDERICK R. WOOLLEY The lonely sunsets flame and die; The giant valleys gulp the night; The monster mountains scrape the sky, Where eager stars are diamond-bright. — Robert W. Service. 1919 SONGS OF MONTANA ^,..^*>.. To The Memory of ANDREW J. STAPLES Died at Vimy Ridge 1914 NOV Id i^tii Copyrighted, 1919 ©C1A557264 PREFACE In these lines, my rough-made rhymes, I have sought to do my best — Yet, as you know well, at times Man will falter in his quest; Therefore, treat me as a friend When you read this book of mine; Read it to the bitter end — Oh, take kindly to my rhyme ! For I've spent with good intent Midnight oil and vigils lone, And my friends their caution lent, Cruel as death, as cold as stone. Yet I've scorned their verdict cold. Wrote on furiously and fast; Cursed them and the tales they told — Yea, defied them to the last! Now, my reader — friend or foe — Gaze upon the afterglow; Read them. Critic — read them. Sage ; Lo! My verses — turn the page! THE AUTHOR. Great Falls, June 6, 1919. SONGS OF MONTANA THE PINES OF MONTANA Since the sad-noted, primitive ages When Nature was known at her best, Like the undaunted knights and the sages. We've withstood the crush of the test. We've guarded the land that was scowling, W've swayed to the blizzards of God ; Stood i^ute where the wild beast was howl- ing, By trails that discoverers trod. On the mountains, the weird, lofty spaces, Where the primitive porcupine frowned, We've guarded the great, sacred places — The land of the Past we have crowned. Since ages unravished and luring Steel-braced in our kirgdom we stand; Invincible, banished, enduring — Montana's last wards of the land. We are kin to the rivers enchanted. The wildness, that revels in s^orn ; The solitudes, silent and haunted, The migjity land, sacred, unborn. As exiles of old we are banished. Lone sentinels, lurid and bold ; Ye-^ ever the ages have vanished. And shadows of pines you behold ! AND OTHER VERSE THE TOILER From the crimson dawn till the setting sun I must struggle on till my toil is done, O'er the snow and ice on my weary feet Till I earn the price that will let me eat. On, and ever on, I must pull and strain, And my soul is gone and I moan in pain; Yet I toil and toil with the one safe bet That ril earn the spoil of my body's sweat. When night is nigh and the day is past I stop and sigh, and I rest at last; Then morning comes and I moan in pain — The sweat-mill hums and I toil again. Ever on and on — to the sweating mill, Till my soul is gone and I linger still ; Till my heart is cold and I seek to spoil, For my life is sold — to toil, to toil ! SONGS OF MONTANA THE NORTHERN LIGHTS When the day is over and toil is done And the sky is a milky gray, And far and near, like a clouded sphere, It hides the light of day — I ponder there in the dimming light And stare with dreaming eyes At the wondrous sights of the Northern Lights In the mystic Northern skies. The colors gleam like a golden stream, Triumphantly and bright; Pennants of gold, like a tide upshoaled, With blood-red, throbbing light. Wondrously bright, it cleft the night And I, with starir.g eyes, Could see them gleam and curl and stream In the battle of the skies. Oh, the mystic blaze that seemed to daze. The pennants spread afar ; The gold-lined waves of golden light That hid each dimming star! I rub my eyes in a vast surprise At the splendor of the sights ; Then darkness hides the mystic scene, The dance of the Northern Lights ! AND OTHER VERSE THE BIG STACK The '-big stack'^ is the giant chimney situated at the B. & M. smelter, Great Falls. It is 506 feet in height, and is sit- uated north of the city, on Smelter hill. It presents an imposing sight from the country about, and can be seen for miles. Stalwart and proud, it towers high Upon the hill, above the dam, A monster shaft raised to the sky To praise the work of planning Man ; To show the effort he commands. The things he visioned in his quest — And there, on Smelter hill, it stands, A monument unto the West! There, as a monarch grim and true, We see aloft its mighty walls Rise to the heavens sombre blue, High, high above Black Eagle falls. Stately and stalwart, grim and lone. It towers high above the dam; The thing the brain could not atone— Behold the mighty work of Man ! SONGS OF MONTANA MONTANA There where the mountains tower grim and stalwart to the skies, There where the lone trails wind from out the Past; There where the silence makes you sad, there where the hush defies. We've gazed upon the things of Nature vast. For there we've seen the aftermath of ages that are dead — The mighty tombs that Glacier Age has gored ; And there we've seen the primitive, where ancient pathways led Across the land the modern age has scored. We've sought the hush and loneliness, the places God commands — Beyond the ridge, the pines so ghostly clad ; We've sought the gelid vastitndes, where many a monarch stands. The beauty, yet the spell that makes men sad. We praised your age-gored solitudes, your silent legions massed, We've crossed your plains, we've scaled your lofty walls, And in our song we want to praise Mon- tana, proud and vast — The wondrous land that ever calls and calls. AND OTHER VERSE land of shining sapphire ! land of glit- tering gold ! We bow to you as redmen of the past ; As beings of the primitive with wondrous tales untold, We bow to you, the land of Nature vast! We've camped within your empire, we've sweated on your trails, We've traveled to your peaks that pierce the sky; We've v/adered to your rivers, to the sil- ence of your vales — Now in your pillared halls we want to die! SOME DAY Some day the flowers will be gone, Their scent will fade away. And memories tha^ lingered on Will ne'er again hold sway. Som-G cay we'll bid a sad goodbye To this oM world of woe, And with us all our hopes will die, The hopes we treasured so. Some day the weird unknown will call To you and I, my friend — Then we must vanquish life and all To serve that utter end. Some day within a graveyard lane There'll be a coM, gray stone, And on the stone a chiseled name — And, lo ! 'twill be my own ! SONGS OF MONTANA AFTER THE WAR Oh, say, when the war will be over And the roaring of cannon has ceased, And the springtime is happy with clover And the Cause of the Nations appeased, We'll go where the sad wind is sighing And there for the heroes we'll weep — The ones who have struggled, defying. Who sleep in their last lonely sleep. Alas, when the battle is over And the flowers of springtime have come. Oh, the maiden will look for her lover, And the mother will look for her son ; Ah, many a heart will be crying, And many an orphan will weep — And ever the wind will be sighing, ''They sleep in their last lonely sleep/' AND OTHER VERSE THE NEIHART HILLS When the shades of night are falling And the daily toil is done, When the silent land is calling And the creeping shadows come — Then I linger there and ponder While all Nature is at rest, And I gaze in dreamy wonder On the scene that is the best. When the f'^osty water glistens Though the weird and ghostly pall, And the toiler stops and listens To the distant mountain's call; When the frozen sky is scowling Amd the pines are draped in snow. And a free-born beast is howling. How it calls for me to go ! By that God-like mountain yonder. Where was never tundra vast, I have gazed in ^aked wonder On the ages that are past. I have sat by camp-fire burning. Mused long hours 'neath the pines. Filled with mighty pangs of yearning As I scribbled down my rhymes. SONGS OF MONTANA THE MOUNTAINS We are sentinels of the stillness, As ancient kings we rise- Wards to the winds that murmur Their anthem to the skies; Wards to the sombre vastitudes, Wards to the bird that flies. Wards to the clear-blue heavens, Kings of the land below ; Kings of the lonely places That never Man shall know; Throwing our monster shadows Wherever sun shall go. Sentinels of the vastness, Kingdoms at our command, Stars of the skies our candles, Mighty and proud we stand; Answer, ye of the lone trails ! Have we not ruled the land? Monarch, Mont. August, 1, 1918. AND OTHER VERSE THE SUBMARINE Oh, I am the Thing — the Undersea King — I was born of a nation to kill ; My bow is all red with the blood of the dead, For I smother the living at will. Yes, I am the Host — the Undersea Ghost — I was made by a people to sail. And often at night, when a ship comes in I keep like a hound on her trail ! Oh, often at night when the moon shows a light I rise on my errand of death, I follow the trail in the face of the gale, And soon do I smother all breath. By man I was made to murder and raid, I lurk near the great ocean's Janes; To the surface I rise and kill 'neath the skjes. And the billows will cover the stains ! I, the grim submarine, am a demon unseen, And I come at the sight of a bait ; I rise from the deep and kill in their sleep The ones that my commanders hate ! Oh, I am grim Death — the Undersea Death I murder by night and by morn, I was born of man's brain to slaughter and main; God ! The deeds they have made me per- form! SONGS OF MONTANA THE VETERANS We have rambled forth to the farthest North Where the hidden treasures are ; Where the husky whines by the lonely pines, Or calls to a distant star. We have told our woes to the outcast snows, We've groped in the grimy sand; We have sought to toil for the golden spoil, And you bet that we know the land. In the frosty air we have sought the lair Of the viking lives unsung; When the nights were long we had sung a song That was old when the world was young. And we knew full \yq\\, Mke a friend of hell. That our tale was yet untold ; We must seek the grime that we might some time Return with a pouch of goM. And then we'll tell of that lurid spell That calls to the strong and weak ; Oh, wise are we in things earth-free. And we know w^hereof we speak. We have struggled forth to the lurid North, Where even a man is free ; Our toil is done in the Midnight Sun — We've sinned, and have paid the fee. AND OTHER VERSE L'ENVOI Up where the shadows are falling, There where the hungry beasts pine, Sad-noted voices are calling, Down through the mandates of Time. Calling from silence and farness, From vastness and primitive lair. And I, like the husky in harness, Am dreaming a dream that is fair. For I dream of the stillness and wonder, The solitudes, silent and vast, The arch-lure that bids me to ponder And go with the breed of the Past ; To gaze at the mighty peaks gleaming, To wander by weird, haunted streams; To follow the bid of my dreaming — For that is the stuff of my dreams. SONGS OF MONTANA THE WANDERLUST When o'er the world I wandered forth, Unknowing of the Great, I heard the stories of the North And of the Hunters' fate. I longed to do as they had done When I was but a child, To win and fight for what I won, To grapple with the Wild. I reasoned all by tales untold, That urged and called to me. And dreamed about the long-sought gold That men would never see. And when the myseries of all Came to me in my sleep. It seemed I heard the vastness call From out the forest deep. Oh, now along a hundred trails Of urging memory I hear the Northern Blizzard's wails In death-like mockery. I know the toil that's never done Through ages that are dust — The visions of the Wandering One Lured by the Wanderlust. ■■'■^•*:v,.v ""■ ^.-t-rf' aV- *^ \%