Volume 1, Number 12 - Summer 1964
O, White River Valley With your mountains above, Your treasured traditions, The legends we love, Are vanishing swiftly Into the unknown; Your old rugged customs So soon will be gone.
The old settlers' staunchness, The hill country lore, The language and idioms From Old England's shore, The "ha'nts" and the "sperrits", The visions and dreams, Are gone with the ghosts And the pant'ers' wild screams.
No watermill earning Its tithing of grain, No oxen-made furrows Are planted again; No spinning wheel whirring, No dyepot, no loom, No backyard ash hopper, No horseshoe-charmed home!
O, White River Valley, Deep, deep in your heart, Preserve for our children Your pioneer art; O, write on a page in The annals of Time The stories and legends Of an Era sublime!
by Inez C. Hinds
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