The Black Hawk War of the Artists

Written for Lorado Taft's Statue of Black Hawk at Oregon, Illinois     To be given in the manner of the Indian Oration and the Indian War-Cry.          Hawk of the Rocks,          Yours is our cause to-day.          Watching your foes          Here in our war array,          Young men we stand,          Wolves of the West at bay.                 Power, power for war                 Comes from these trees divine;                 Power from the boughs,                 Boughs where the dew-beads shine,                 Power from the cones -                 Yea, from the breath of the pine!          Power to restore          All that the white hand mars.          See the dead east          Crushed with the iron cars -          Chimneys black          Blinding the sun and stars!          Hawk of the pines,          Hawk of the plain-winds fleet,          You shall be king          There in the iron street,          Factory and forge          Trodden beneath your feet.          There will proud trees          Grow as they grow by streams.          There will proud thoughts          Walk as in warrior dreams.          There will proud deeds          Bloom as when battle gleams!          Warriors of Art,          We will hold council there,          Hewing in stone          Things to the trapper fair,          Painting the gray          Veils that the spring moons wear,          This our revenge,          This one tremendous change:          Making new towns,          Lit with a star-fire strange,          Wild as the dawn          Gilding the bison-range.          All the young men          Chanting your cause that day,          Red-men, new-made          Out of the Saxon clay,          Strong and redeemed,          Bold in your war-array!