|Description||To the Falls |
How few the years since first they saw,
Close planted by thy wave,
The mill-wheel with its whirling saw
Whose echoes woke the glade.
The wild Cascades that rushed to greet
Columbia's calmer stream
Then swept along with freer feet
'Neath endless boughs of green.
The Indian fished or made his camp
Each babbling brook beside,
And when the bright stars lit their lamp
Wooed there his willing bride.
Now all is changed. The engine flies
Like lightning o'er the rail,
Tall marts of trade and steeples rise
Where only sighed the gale.
"Spokane the wonderful" sits throned
Beside the fettered stream.
Where once the savage freely roamed
Her lighted factories gleam.
A diamond fair 'mid emeralds set
She shines, the valley's gem,
Turning the tide her mill wheels wet
To use of brainy men.
-Brewerton, circa 1900.