To Listen to Music While Reading this Poem, just Click Here!
Click Here To add this poem to your "Voting Possibilities" list!
Maude was sixteen in eighteen fifty six Stood strong and sure beside mother At dawn they joined the Mormon throng To travel the Overland Trail Their helmsman… their God They did trek one thousand miles o’er The daunting course, wild with wolves, Vipers, bunches of boulders in piles Indians on paints galloped atop The Saint’s narrow pounded path Maude’s mother gave birth near the Platte Father cleared sagebrush, spooked a lone Bobcat. Baby Fanny small, frail, weak Heart barely beat, Maude Kissed her ashen cheek Winter loomed like a pompous parasol Poaching warmth from the sun. Maude’s Feet felt frozen; she kept pace despite Pulsing pain she plodded on Little water, crumbs to eat Mother took ill and lingered till December Maude watched her die; kneeled to pray Scalded tears streaked Maude’s somber face Hope all but gone till Brigham Young rode along He brought Venison, corn and water Brethren bowed to thank The Father Their journey over, their faith reborn Hoards of handcart companies Passed over the perilous plains Hardship and death prevailed, the Mormons Reached the Utah valley and nested there “Come, Ye Saints, no toil nor labor fear” Brave footprints bruised the clime Moments chiseled forever in time
Another story my grandmother told me about her mother and The Latter Day Saints
Sorry, there are no critiques for this poem in our system... If the poem is older, the critiques have been purged!
Click HERE to return to ThePoeticLink.com Database Page!