Nor deems a heaven a home without a ditch—
The river seaman of the mighty west,
Rude in their speech, but honest as they’re rude,
The man of cities, and the pioneer,
Whose axe first let the sunlight to the woods,
When nature in her lonely beauty slept
On the wide prairie and the sylvan hill—
The beaver-trapper, from the far-off stream;
The bison-hunter, from the saline lick;
And the wild Indian, in his forest dress,