The Black Hawk War of the Artists

By Vachel Lindsay

Written for Lorado Taft's Statue of Black Hawk at Oregon, Illinois To be given in the manner of the Indian Oration and the Indian War-Cry. Hawk of the Rocks, Yours is our cause to-day. Watching your foes Here in our war array, Young men we stand, Wolves of the West at bay. Power, power for war Comes from these trees divine; Power from the boughs, Boughs where the dew-beads shine, Power from the cones - Yea, from the breath of the pine! Power to restore All that the white hand mars. See the dead east Crushed with the iron cars - Chimneys black Blinding the sun and stars! Hawk of the pines, Hawk of the plain-winds fleet, You shall be king There in the iron street, Factory and forge Trodden beneath your feet. There will proud trees Grow as they grow by streams. There will proud thoughts Walk as in warrior dreams. There will proud deeds Bloom as when battle gleams! Warriors of Art, We will hold council there, Hewing in stone Things to the trapper fair, Painting the gray Veils that the spring moons wear, This our revenge, This one tremendous change: Making new towns, Lit with a star-fire strange, Wild as the dawn Gilding the bison-range. All the young men Chanting your cause that day, Red-men, new-made Out of the Saxon clay, Strong and redeemed, Bold in your war-array!