Produced by David Widger from page images generously provided by The Internet Archive
With Pictures in Color and Other Drawings by Maynard Dixon
|NOW, this is the simple, living faith of a humble heart and mind,
Drunk up from the storm-brewed Western streams, breathed in with the prairie wind.
My paints are crude and my pictures rude, but if some worth they show
Which those may see who have thoughts as free, the rest may let them go.
I hold that the things which make earth good may work most harm in use
If the wit of men heed not the line 'twixt temperance and abuse,
For speech or mood, or drink or food may be a curse at will,
Though, rightly weighed, they only aid the cup of life to fill.
I hold that the silent sea and plain, the mountain, wood, and down.
Are better haunts for the feet of men than the streets of the roaring town,
And that those who tread for the price of bread in the thronging hives of toil
Will stronger grow with the more they know of the kiss of the virgin soil.
I hold that our sons should learn to love, not gods of gold and greed,
But the virile men of brain and brawn who served our country's need,
And should more delight in a clean-cut fight, stout blade and courage whole,
That the morbid skill of a critic's drill in the core of a sin-sick soul.
Three stars that shine on the trail of life can make man's pathway bright,
And one is the strength of the living God, that stands in his heart upright,
And one is a noble woman's love, on which his heart may lean,
And one is the sight of his country's flag, to keep his courage keen.
Who knows the balm of the summer's calm or the chords of the blizzard's hymn
And finds not God in blast and breeze, his sense is strangely dim.
For he whose ear is attuned can hear the very planets sing
That the soul of man, by a God-wrought plan, is the heir of creation's King.
Who feels the joy of the golden days with her who shares his mood
In the sun-washed wastes of the prairie hills or the breaks of the tangled wood;
Who has won the fate of a steel-true mate, real comrade, friend and wife,
He tastes the kiss of Elysian bliss in instant, earthly life.
Who sees the gleam of the Stars and Stripes, on land or sea displayed,
Atilt in the reek of the battle-smoke or aloft o'er the marts of trade--