The Pioneer

ELIZABETH EARL JONES

Night Wrapped the woods in silence drear,
Till, softly, morn began to break;
A waking thrush sang sweet and clear
His morning revelry: "Awake!—
The time has come for all to wake!"

His song brought no response to cheer,
Though he sang sweet of glory-beams:
"The night is gone; the day is here."
But, oh, how deep are forest dreams.
"The day is here! Awake, awake!"

Then, sudden, from the forest's end
An answer came as clear as dawn.
The pioneer had waked a friend,—
Together, glad, they praised the morn:
"Oh, blessed day, when all shall wake!"

Another one gave forth a song;
And more and more, till anthem's swell
Was like a strong wind rushing on.
At last, they all had waked to tell:
"The night is gone; the day is here!"

Since time began, each pioneer
Has bravely, lonely sung his song,
Till drowsy ears were forced to hear,
And join the resurrection throng
Who shout: "All glory to the dawn!"

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