Carrier's Address
Dear Friends and Patrons of the DENVER NEWS!
On South Platte's Plains or 'mid the Mountain dews,
In thriving towns throughout our golden mines,
Please pause awhile, and read your Carrier's lines;
And should his carol be but poorly sung,
His muse's a novice, and the country's young!
Since New Year's last, Columbia's sacred Star
Has been bedimmed by bloody civil war;
The Union heart has beat with travail throes,
The Union ship has sailed 'midst myriad foes;
But yet, thank God! her course is onward, on;
Her harbor piers stand firm at Washington.
Although, at first, Fort Sumter has been won
From old Kentucky's gallant Anderson,
And our brave boys, in panic, beat retreat,
For lack of numbers, at Bull's Run defeat,
Our Nation's Eagle, with proud wing and free,
Still soars o'er White House and from sea to sea!
And ere another circling year shall dawn
Upon this country, this broad, Freedom's lawn, —
With Scott's precedents and McClellan's skill —
We trust our troops will dark Secession kill,
Restore our empire, through from lake to sea,
The pride of earth, the haven of the Free!
The twelve month past, so fraught with trouble East,
Has wrought grave change 'mid us folks here far West.
" Pike's Peak " no more retains its wonted fame,
For all things now bear Colorado's name.
In place of " Bummer " and of " Vigy " rule,
We're governed now, like lads at Charter School.
Instead of Steele, and " Providential " brawl,
Now Gilpin edicts, and the sage Judge Hall
Deals out the " dictas " by which all are held
As strictly straight as soldiers at Camp Weld.
(While on parade, we mean, and not abroad,
When they, through thirst, are forced to " run the guard. " )
And, though some folks who hold the " inside track, "
Incline to doubt these rulers will come back,
Their regal reins are well and ably held,
At least thus far, by Lewis Ledyard Weld,
Our fourth chief ruler, now, in point of fact,
Through Grace of God and the Organic Act.
Instead of gold dust and the coin in hand,
Pass current now " brass filings and black sand. "
Like Gregory leads with countless tunnel shafts,
We've all been " bored, " with Gilpin's countless " drafts, " —
Drawn on the U.S., without " days of grace, "
Which " ain't quite right, " says Secretary Chase.
How changed the scene, thro' Denver city wards,
Since the " Platte Rangers " and the " Ragged Guards, "
With rations scant and regimentals old,
Traversed the " town-site " and by night patrolled,
To guard our shanties, 'mid first winter's snows.
From wolves and Indians, and, worse, pale-faced foes!
Those wolves are " strychnined, " and those red men roam
Arkansas' bottoms, their old winter home.
The town's now " finished, " since thro' safety fears,
We've quartered here a thousand Volunteers,
With Captains gallant and a Colonel brave,
To whip the Texans and this country save!
Our First Assembly and th' Election o'er,
Pass'd off triumphant, Union to the core;
Its mighty voice spoke out both strong and stern,
For Printer, through to Constable, short term.
Our Members, many, did sound wisdom show,
Save, perhaps, one, who always voted " No! "
In home affairs, as well as those abroad,
We've reasons many to feel justly proud.
Our lines have fallen in auspicious place,
On lands just surveyed now, by General Case.
Our public wants, if right and just it stands,
Will meet success, in H. P. Bennet's hands.
Friends, Miners, Merchants, Artists, Farmers too!
We wish you luck thro' Eighteen Sixty Two!
May all your " plates " with rich " amalgam " fill,
And hogs be fat, that next New Year's ye kill.
From Denver, Gregory, thro' to Buckskin Joe,
May all amass what " makes th' mare to go! "
And ye, fair ladies, Colorado o'er,
Whose pleasing presence, like rich " dust " in store,
Dispels our wants, our cup of comfort fills, —
We wish you, all, the best that Heaven wills,
Maidens, girls, wives, and widows too, —
Who'd be a Carrier but for meeting you?
But to be brief, and lest our friend should think
That we've lost sight of the main point — your " chink, "
We'll close our rhyme — our reputation save,
And kindly thank you for whate'er you give;
The more the better, — as it tells and pays,
Like bread on waters — after many days!
On South Platte's Plains or 'mid the Mountain dews,
In thriving towns throughout our golden mines,
Please pause awhile, and read your Carrier's lines;
And should his carol be but poorly sung,
His muse's a novice, and the country's young!
Since New Year's last, Columbia's sacred Star
Has been bedimmed by bloody civil war;
The Union heart has beat with travail throes,
The Union ship has sailed 'midst myriad foes;
But yet, thank God! her course is onward, on;
Her harbor piers stand firm at Washington.
Although, at first, Fort Sumter has been won
From old Kentucky's gallant Anderson,
And our brave boys, in panic, beat retreat,
For lack of numbers, at Bull's Run defeat,
Our Nation's Eagle, with proud wing and free,
Still soars o'er White House and from sea to sea!
And ere another circling year shall dawn
Upon this country, this broad, Freedom's lawn, —
With Scott's precedents and McClellan's skill —
We trust our troops will dark Secession kill,
Restore our empire, through from lake to sea,
The pride of earth, the haven of the Free!
The twelve month past, so fraught with trouble East,
Has wrought grave change 'mid us folks here far West.
" Pike's Peak " no more retains its wonted fame,
For all things now bear Colorado's name.
In place of " Bummer " and of " Vigy " rule,
We're governed now, like lads at Charter School.
Instead of Steele, and " Providential " brawl,
Now Gilpin edicts, and the sage Judge Hall
Deals out the " dictas " by which all are held
As strictly straight as soldiers at Camp Weld.
(While on parade, we mean, and not abroad,
When they, through thirst, are forced to " run the guard. " )
And, though some folks who hold the " inside track, "
Incline to doubt these rulers will come back,
Their regal reins are well and ably held,
At least thus far, by Lewis Ledyard Weld,
Our fourth chief ruler, now, in point of fact,
Through Grace of God and the Organic Act.
Instead of gold dust and the coin in hand,
Pass current now " brass filings and black sand. "
Like Gregory leads with countless tunnel shafts,
We've all been " bored, " with Gilpin's countless " drafts, " —
Drawn on the U.S., without " days of grace, "
Which " ain't quite right, " says Secretary Chase.
How changed the scene, thro' Denver city wards,
Since the " Platte Rangers " and the " Ragged Guards, "
With rations scant and regimentals old,
Traversed the " town-site " and by night patrolled,
To guard our shanties, 'mid first winter's snows.
From wolves and Indians, and, worse, pale-faced foes!
Those wolves are " strychnined, " and those red men roam
Arkansas' bottoms, their old winter home.
The town's now " finished, " since thro' safety fears,
We've quartered here a thousand Volunteers,
With Captains gallant and a Colonel brave,
To whip the Texans and this country save!
Our First Assembly and th' Election o'er,
Pass'd off triumphant, Union to the core;
Its mighty voice spoke out both strong and stern,
For Printer, through to Constable, short term.
Our Members, many, did sound wisdom show,
Save, perhaps, one, who always voted " No! "
In home affairs, as well as those abroad,
We've reasons many to feel justly proud.
Our lines have fallen in auspicious place,
On lands just surveyed now, by General Case.
Our public wants, if right and just it stands,
Will meet success, in H. P. Bennet's hands.
Friends, Miners, Merchants, Artists, Farmers too!
We wish you luck thro' Eighteen Sixty Two!
May all your " plates " with rich " amalgam " fill,
And hogs be fat, that next New Year's ye kill.
From Denver, Gregory, thro' to Buckskin Joe,
May all amass what " makes th' mare to go! "
And ye, fair ladies, Colorado o'er,
Whose pleasing presence, like rich " dust " in store,
Dispels our wants, our cup of comfort fills, —
We wish you, all, the best that Heaven wills,
Maidens, girls, wives, and widows too, —
Who'd be a Carrier but for meeting you?
But to be brief, and lest our friend should think
That we've lost sight of the main point — your " chink, "
We'll close our rhyme — our reputation save,
And kindly thank you for whate'er you give;
The more the better, — as it tells and pays,
Like bread on waters — after many days!
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