Apple River Canyon - An Ode

By a Native
H.J. Wenziker

In the northern part of Illinois
   Not many miles from Grant’s old home,
There’s a deep and winding canyon
    Where the Native Americans used to roam.
‘Tis a place of many beauties,
   With its stately walls so sheer,
And in the early nineties
   It was stamping ground for deer.
There is stately pine and cedar;
   In its bluffs are numerous caves,
It is up this very canyon
   That Black Hawk led his braves.
Now a place for many tourists,
   Where o’er its winding walls do climb,
And gaze up with astonishment,
   When old Castle Rock they find.
Then there is Miner’s Canyon,
   Which has a beauty all its own;
Standing high above its gateway
   Is the rattlers’ stately home.
In the stream are many fishes,
   But the black bass beats them all,
And shortly after sunset
   You can hear the Grey Wolf’s call.
Here are birds, beasts, and shrubbery
   While some coffee trees you’ll find.
You’d have to go to Argentine
   To find others of this kind.
At the apex of this canyon
   Stood a town in bygone days,
Through which the stagecoach used to rumble,
   But modern methods changed their ways.
Gone those old days with the stagecoach,
   And the mills have crumbled down.
Now a proposed State Park
   Adorns the place where Millville was a town.
Now let us hope the state will purchase,
   And that a state park we’ll have soon,
While the credit goes to Kleeberger
   And Dr. H. Pepoon.
If you’re out in quest of scenery,
   Why go touring through the west?
When here’s old Apple River Canyon,
   The first, last and the best.
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