OCR Text |
Show PROGRESSION ' By Harry E. MacPherson. I WALKED down Temple street today and saw The corner where the Valley House once stood. The "old order changeth" an enduring law. A lilac's fresh awhile, a tiny space, With perfumed color strong which seems to say 'Twill never fade, and yet a sunny day, A week or so, and see! the flower's race Is run, gay petals withered, and a rose All newly blooms' and, like the lilac, blows Then other blossoms come to take its place. That Pioneer, in early days the joy And pride of all the City and the talk Of all the West, was raised when those who walk With halting steps today wer,e prancing boys. And if the Spirit of the old hotel Now that it is gone should haunt the spot, What weirdly dim, strange stories it could tell. Tales of revelry In what seemed palace halls, Tales of lightsome laughter, weary tears; Of how the slow-swift unrelenting years Assailed the building, crumbling the walls, Scarring paint and tarnishing the gold; How newer, finer hostelries were reared To cast their shadows on the one so seared And time-decrepit, once young, strong, bold; Of when the hopeful youth of that old place Passed Into sober middle age and then To reminiscence time old ago; Finally to the end that Gomes to all To flowers; to things of brick and stone ... to men. In hey-day of th eHouse they came by stage, By wonder steam-cars in a later age. Now super-modern trains, electric, fast Sped on their way by magic of a wire Clanging, shall pass the town's historic spot. In but a few brief years 'twill be forgot, Except by hoary teller of the Past, Who heard, perhaps, its romance from his ire. I walked down Temple street today and saw The corner where the Valley House once stood. t - |