Stedman and Hutchinson, comps. A Library of American Literature:
An Anthology in Eleven Volumes. 1891.
Vols. IX–XI: Literature of the Republic, Part IV., 1861–1889
Hearing the News in Idaho
By Charles Henry Phelps (1853–1933)A
Winds up and o’er the mountain chain
To where the pines of Idaho
Stand guard upon the Cœur d’Alene;
A thousand feet above the clouds,
A thousand feet below the stars,
The narrow path just rims the shrouds
That wrap the warlike form of Mars.
On Eagle and on Pritchard Creeks,
In Dream Gulch and at Murrayville,
The camp-fires play their ruddy freaks,
Redden the snow with lurid streaks,
And melt, perchance, on every hill,
The nuggets which the miner seeks.
Desperate some and reckless more;
In every cañon revelry;
And boisterous songs went rolling by
With rugged jokes and lusty roar—
When, all at once, a sudden hush
Passed like a whisper through the pines;
The chorus ceased its noisy rush,
The gamblers broke their eager lines,
And many bared a shaggy head,
And some upon that silent air
Breathed forth a rude, unpractised prayer;
The sick moaned on his hemlock bed;
For, down the peaks of Idaho,
Across the trail cut through the snow,
Had come this message:
“Grant is dead!”
Gathered, and talked in undertone.
And one said: “I have not forgot
How he led us at Donelson.”
And one, who spoke his name to bless,
Said: “I was in the Wilderness.”
And one: “I was in Mexico.”
And still another, old and scarred,
And weather-bronzed and battle-marred,
Broke down with this one word: “Shiloh.”
With broken voice, beneath the trees,
One read of those last painful days,
And of his calm soul’s victories,
So like his old heroic ways.
Touched to the heart, they did not seek
To hide the love of many years,
But down each rough and furrowed cheek
Crept manly, unaccustomed tears.
Shall dew more grateful ever fall;
And never lips to Freedom’s God
In prayer more fervently shall call.
And thou, calm Spirit, in what path
Thy dauntless footsteps ever tread,
No blessing kindlier meaning hath
Than brave men speak above their dead.