Then I came to Jonathan E. Hoag. & the next person on the list turns out to be his third wife Lydia Martin (nee Dwelle) Hoag. The couple joined the EPOC in 1892, just one year after it's founding. So we have husband/wife suffragists in Easton. Cool! As I start reading Jonathan's bio on Find A Grave, I notice that he was poet & friends with Howard P. (H.P.) Lovecraft! Very cool! Since I just happened to be working in the Folklife Center at Crandall Public Library at the time, I went over to the OPAC & located a copy of
with an Introduction by none other than H.P. Lovecraft.
was born in Valley Falls (Rensselaer County), NY on February 10 1831 to Abigail (nee Gifford) Hoag & her husband, Robert Nesbit Hoag. The family, including six other children, moved to South Easton when Joanthan was 8. He moved to Greenwich in 1911, & lived there until his death on December 17, 1927. He was 96 years old, & had outlived three wives.
. Apparently Jonathan was fond of writing poems for family members to commemorate milestones, like his cousin's 80th birthday. There are some such poems in his book, including a few for his mother, and one for his sister Hannah Hoag Balch.
hile I have not yet found a poem entitled "An Ode to a Suffragist", I did notice one about Dionondahowa Falls. Please enjoy...
by Jonathan Elihu Hoag (1917)
Ye towering
rocks o’er which the waters fly,
Pray tell me
whence ye came and when and why;
Your revered
age reveal, your purpose show,
Unseal those
mysteries of long ago!
Was it at
Nature’s noon that first your height
Rose to the
fulgent rays of solar light?
Or was it at
the dawn, when nascent earth
Glowed like
the nebula that gave it birth?
Speak, hoary
torrent of the primal scene,
And trace
the course of ages that have been;
Reflect once
more that ancient sky, whose rays
Lit the
first drops with mist-enshrouded blaze;
Recall each
memory, and display the whole
On
revelation’s all enlightening scroll!
Tell the
long story to yon clinging vine,
On that
proud sentinel, the wind-swayed pine;
In whispers
tell the tinted flowers that spring
Close to the
banks where your swift waters sing;
Tell the
green groves by balmy winds caressed,
Where
twittering wrens and chirping robins nest;
Why be so
loath your secrets to unfold,
Ere time
shall leave your gorges dry and old?
Some fateful
day the sage will seek in vain,
Where now
your ripples run, a numerous train;
And many a
weed and thorn will lift its head
O’er the
mute pebbles of the arid bed.
So speak,
thou cataract, while time remains,
And I will
spread thy fame in Doric strains;
Thy wondrous
tale to millions shall be dear,
And
generations yet unborn shall hear!
When glacial
cohorts on the heights arrayed,
In icy
wonder watched thy tall cascade;
With deadly
purpose scanned thy gorge below,
And stalked
with hypoborean skill the foe;
Didst chant
a warning, and the glaciers greet
With
prophecies of peril and defeat?
On sunny
plains to Phoebus wont to yield,
They left
their rocky bones strewn o’er the field!
And when the
Red Man in primeval pride
In
admiration sought they pine-clad side;
In each
white spray a Manitou to trace,
And bow
before the spirit of the place;
Didst thou
to him thy secret then relate,
And tell the
copper visitor thy fate!
See
Cossayuna, stately, gray and tall.
With
question grave, address the waterfall;
“You tell me
some,” he grunt, “Me tell you more,”
But naught
is heard above the mighty roar.
Then lovely
Minnewawa, she whose eyes
Gleam
brighter that the stars of midnight skies;
“You tell,”
she says, “the many things you know;
“Me tell you
Indian lore of long ago.
“Your rocks
and torrents, I’ll preserve to fame,
“And your
proud falls, Dionaondawa name!”
Then spake
the rocks, whose ancient lips so long
Had lain in
silence, dumb to speech and song;
With
thunderous accents they the records read,
Kept through
uncounted years of varied dead;
“Behold our
sides, by time’s sharp chisel rent
“When Nature
rocked the rising continent,
“Dark were
the thick veiled skies, no sound was heard
“Save the
black Vulcan’s subterranean word.
“The sooty
Cyclops, with gigantic might,
“Heaved up
the rocks from realms of Stygian night,
“Plutonian
silence and Cimmerian pall
“In hideous
mantle shroud and cover all;
“In sunless,
moonless, starless, soundless space,
“A new world
joins the planetary race,
“Then falls
the fiat as the Almighty speaks,
“A rift of
light through the deep vapor breaks—
“Sun, moon,
and stars their wonted paths assume,
“And ordered
heaven supplants the primal gloom.
“We gaze
above, where circling seraphim
“Induct a
foaming torrent o’er our brim;
“With
sprightly grace the crystal waters flow,
“And loud
reverberate in the gulf below;
“Through the
deep gorge with rushing force to rage,
“And serve
the mill-wheels for a future age.
“In days to
come a million souls shall reap
“The
blessings our tumultuous waters keep,
“And
industry, with all her copious store,
“Shall feed
the mendicant and clothe the poor.
“Its work
complete, the useful stream shall glide
“To where
the river meets the salty tide;
“And there
the laboring flood at least shall rest,
“Safe
sleeping on Old Ocean’s ample breast!”
