A poem for Hastings
This poem was written by Loren R. Ingebretson for the people of Hastings, ND.
It was just a sleepy little town,
It's youth long grown and moved away
And, by the looks of Main Street now,
There was nothing here, for which to stay!
But still, the grass is mowed, and trimmed.
And where once the school was found,
The flag still waves like in the days,
When children's feet blackened the now green ground!
And the church stands clean and white
God still is worshiped here,
It was important back then, and important now,
As what I was seeing became quite clear!
We stopped at the old hotel:
A museum of antiques today,
And, as Grandma walked up those steps she said:
Right here, is where I lived and played!
Two little rooms in that old hotel,
Housed a family of seven,
Simple surroundings, to be sure,
That love made a bit of heaven!
Larry and Mary own it now,
And the graciously showed us around,
For just like Grandma Coral,
It is here, where his roots are found!
Three floors in the old hotel,
Home for some, and for others a place to rest,
And it stands straight and tall, remembering,
When the Sioux line ran East and West!
My eyes beheld a dying town,
But my heart began to see,
A place where many a Mother and Dad,
Had bounced a child on their knee!
I salute you little Hastings,
And I thank you for showing me why,
That it's important to pass on the heritage,
And not leave, what is true wealth, to die!
Poor folk lived in Hastings,
They worked and worshiped and played,
The hard times, were there, to be sure!
But the treasures of life, with its people have stayed!