N.J.THer
Silver Member
- Nov 16, 2006
- 3,282
- 238
- 🥇 Banner finds
- 1
- Detector(s) used
- Whites DFX w/ Sunray DX-1 probe and Minelab Excalibur 1000, Whites TRX Pinpointer
- Primary Interest:
- Metal Detecting
I came across this poem while reading a paper from 1902 looking for detecting leads. Thought I would share.
NJ
March 8, 1902
THE GOLD SEEKERS
The panting steamer slowly drops
Away from the crowded pier;
The blackened decks recede from view
And leave me musing here.
Away where the gold so warm and red,
lies hid in the dark earth's breast;
little they reck of danger android,
Aglow witt the golden quest.
The rosy youth Witt kindling eye,
In his manhood's early dawn,
The pale man with the student's stoop,
The stalwart man of brawn.
All. each and all, with fevered gaze
Fixed on the fields of gold;
Ah, well-a-day I for a faith that's firm
And a heart that is brave and bold.
For those there be who will come again,
All broken and worn and van,
While others left in the Arctic snows
Will slumber forever on.
And some will empty-handed come,
Who have missed the golden goal,
And some with gold too dear, alas I
The price of a sinless soul.
And those at home will sit at night
And the wind sweeps where it wills
With hearts away in a shambling shack
In the wild Alaskan Mils.
'Tis thus I muse on the lonely quay,
Whence the hurrying crowd is gone
while far away for the frozen north.
A flag of smoke trails on.
—Carrie Shaw Rice, in Overland Monthly.-
NJ
March 8, 1902
THE GOLD SEEKERS
The panting steamer slowly drops
Away from the crowded pier;
The blackened decks recede from view
And leave me musing here.
Away where the gold so warm and red,
lies hid in the dark earth's breast;
little they reck of danger android,
Aglow witt the golden quest.
The rosy youth Witt kindling eye,
In his manhood's early dawn,
The pale man with the student's stoop,
The stalwart man of brawn.
All. each and all, with fevered gaze
Fixed on the fields of gold;
Ah, well-a-day I for a faith that's firm
And a heart that is brave and bold.
For those there be who will come again,
All broken and worn and van,
While others left in the Arctic snows
Will slumber forever on.
And some will empty-handed come,
Who have missed the golden goal,
And some with gold too dear, alas I
The price of a sinless soul.
And those at home will sit at night
And the wind sweeps where it wills
With hearts away in a shambling shack
In the wild Alaskan Mils.
'Tis thus I muse on the lonely quay,
Whence the hurrying crowd is gone
while far away for the frozen north.
A flag of smoke trails on.
—Carrie Shaw Rice, in Overland Monthly.-
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