Ho, for the West

Ho, for the West

Ho, for the West! where virgin soil
Invites the willing laborer's toil;
Where lands as broad as either sea,
The home of millions yet to be,
Await the touch of hoe and share,
Their dark brown richness to prepare,
The seed to hold, the fruit to give;
That millions may receive and live.

Ho, for the West! where snow crowned hills
Pour down the rivers, brooks and rills,
To have the land through which each flows
And bid it blossom as the rose,
With grains that glad the passing eye,
And fruitage hanging 'neath a sky,
Which bends it - brightly smiling blue,
Or lends its clouds to grace the view.

Ho, for the West! where min'rals bright
Lie hidden [?] from mortal sight;
Where boundless wealth is [?] in store,
In countless scams of [?] ore,
Awaiting but the miner's hand,
To bring it forth to bless the land.
Ho, for the West! and "Westward Ho!"
Thy face turn toward the sunset glow.

Lewis Howard Latimer

4:17, p. 2

1891.01.17