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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE LAST FRONTIER, by                    
First Line: As the evening shadows are falling
Last Line: "for he was a part of the ""last frontier."
Subject(s): Alaska


As the evening shadows are falling,
And the day is at its close
Where the rolling, rumble, mumble
Tells where the mighty Yukon flows.
There in his old log cabin
With his old briar pipe aglow,
Sits a picturesque old character,
An old Alaska Sourdough.
While the wind outside is whistling
With its lonely, mooning wail,
He in his fancy wanders
Back down old memory's trail,
As he sits in reminiscence
Of the trail of ninety-eight
He can see a youth so certain
Of the strike that he would make.
But after all his hopes were blighted
And his failure he had seen,
He started out prospecting
Up along the old Stikine.
Always seeking, always searching,
Sure he'd find some first class ore,
Sure he'd start another Klondike
Bigger than the one before.
Vainly searching, hoping, praying,
That he'd some day get a break
But he had to give up prospecting
'Cause he couldn't get a stake.
There he sits amid his mountains
In old Alaska that he loves,
In his mind's eye there is a picture
Of such a scene way up above.
When he makes that last long journey,
He'll need neither pick, pan or spade.
For when he reaches that glad heaven,
His last big strike is made.
Sitting there in silent meditation --
No, he doesn't shed a tear,
For his old heart is gladdened
For he was a part of the "Last Frontier."





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