Treasure Island

Carolyn Ford Witt

(1943 / Indiana USA)



The National Road stretched longingly
Into the wilderness west
From Wheeling to Vandalia
We'd try our Very Best.

That rich land we would concur
As we moved our families there
By Conestoga and by Stagecoach
To a land we held so fair.

Fine Taverns and the Wagon Stands
Stood there along the way
To greet the the weary traveler
At the blessed end of day.

And soon the giant Railroad
Grew along that very path,
Blazing through the tiny towns
Leaving the Stagecoach in it's Wrath.

No longer heard the horses hooves
The Stagecoach barreling by,
As now the Great Steam engine ruled
The road was left to die.

But Automobiles soon came traveling
Those highways would amend.
National Road, now U.S.40
More convenience here to lend.

From lonely desolation
Out of the Ashes grew
Reaching from Sweet Baltimore
To St. Louis...It just flew.

Fine cities were created
The West would now encode
For all this started with the wagon
And an envisioned 'National Road'.

Author: Carolyn Ford Witt

Ms. Caroline

© 2006 Ms. Caroline (All rights reserved)

Submitted: Monday, September 21, 2009

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