Classic Poem

How grandly vast the prairie seems,
Beneath the pale winter's glow —
A wide, white world, in death-like sleep,
Under its shroud of snow.

Yet there are signs of life: the lanes
Are trod by heavy teams;
A horseman, on the yon distant swell,
A moving atom seems.

The wide, white lands that stretch away
Are dotted everywhere
With orchard clumps, and farmers' homes
Are snugly nestled there.

The people of this great new world
Have come from every quarter:
Some faced each other long ago,
On red fields bathed in slaughter.

In frosty dawns of winter morns.
The white smoke curls away
From homes of men who wore the blue,
And men who wore the gray.

Here, brothers all; they hang their gifts
On the same Christmas tree;
Our kindly neighbors, cordial friends,
Are as brothers ought to be.

And crowds of children, Kansas born, —
Our young state's hope and pride, —
With rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes,
Learn lessons side by side.

Naught reck they of the battle field,
Of sad, dark years of slaughter;
The Northmen's son some day shall wear
The Southron's gentle daughter.