With grass and trees and flowers—we’ve gathered here to stage
The story of our County down to the present age.
In song and dance and tableau its history will be told;
In interludes and episodes our pageant will unfold.
We journey back in fancy a span of fifty years,
Back to the days of Indians and hardy pioneers.
Here waves a sea of prairie grass upon the endless plain;
Here lies a pile of whitening bones that mark the bison’s reign.
Within a fringe of forest green that skirts a river’s flow,
The Indians are breaking camp—’tis time for them to go.