FAR out in the wilds of Oregon, On a lonely mountain side, Where Columbia's mighty waters Roll down to the Ocean's tide; Where the giant fir and cedar Are imaged in the wave, O'ergrown with ferns and lichens, I found poor Dempsey's grave. I found no marble monolith, No broken shaft nor stone, Recording sixty victories This vanquished victor won; No rose, no shamrock could I find, No mortal here to tell Where sleeps in this forsaken spot The immortal Nonpareil. A winding, wooded canyon road That mortals seldom tread Leads up this lonely mountain To this desert of the dead. And the western sun was sinking In Pacific's golden wave; And these solemn pines kept watching Over poor Jack Dempsey's grave. That man of honor and of iron, That man of heart and steel, That man who far out-classed his class And made mankind to feel That Dempsey's name and Dempsey's fame Should live in serried stone, Is now at rest far in the West In the wilds of Oregon. Forgotten by ten thousand throats That thundered his acclaim — Forgotten by his friends and foes That cheered his very name; Oblivion wraps his faded form, But ages hence shall save The memory of that Irish lad That fills poor Dempsey's grave. O Fame, why sleeps thy favored son In wilds, in woods, in weeds? And shall he ever thus sleep on — Interred his valiant deeds? 'Tis strange New York should thus forget Its "bravest of the brave," And in the wilds of Oregon Unmarked, leave Dempsey's grave. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...UPON JULIA'S VOICE by ROBERT HERRICK THE RUSTIC LAD'S LAMENT IN THE TOWN by DAVID MACBETH MOIR PHILOMELA by JOHN CROWE RANSOM ENOCH ARDEN by ALFRED TENNYSON TO HARTLEY COLERIDGE; SIX YEARS OLD by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH THE HALCYON BIRDS by WILLIAM ROSE BENET A SPRING SONG by MATHILDE BLIND |