Scarcely halting for a drink,

Toiling through the sticky quagmire,

They attain the farther brink.

Here the trail leads to the westward,--

Once the redman's wild domain;

Now the shallow rutted highway

Of the settler's wagon train.

Here and there along the edges,

Paths work through the waving grass,

Where at night from bluff to river,

Sneaking coyotes find a pass.

Here the meadow lark sings gaily

As she leaves her hidden nest,

While the sun of early morning

Double-tints her orange breast.

6  

Up this broad and fertile valley,

Tracing all its winding ways,

Plodding on with dogged patience

Through a score of weary days,

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