American Civil War Recipient Horatio Collins King was a Guest at Idylease in 1913

Idylease
American Civil War Recipient Horatio Collins King was a Guest at Idylease in 1913
Idylease newspaper clipping
Newspaper Clippings from the Brooklyn Eagle, 1913

Horatio Collins King (December 22, 1837 – November 15, 1918) was a Union Army soldier who received the Medal of Honor for his actions during the American Civil War. He also served as a U.S. lawyer, politician and author and was admitted to the bar in New York City in 1861. He served in the armies of the Potomac and Shenandoah during the Civil War from August 1862 until May 1865, when he resigned with the rank of brevet colonel. King earned the Medal of Honor for service near Dinwiddie Courthouse, Virginia, on March 31, 1865. King was the son of the Postmaster General of the United States under President James Buchanan.

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David Banks Sickels Authors the Poem Idylease in 1909

idylease
A Crisp Autumn Day at Idylease Taken on Halloween — 2016

DAVID BANKS SICKELS

David Banks Sickels (1837-1918) was a Civil War Correspondent, Fiscal Agent for the State of Arkansas, a Diplomatic Representative of Siam and Acting Consul of The Netherlands. With Lyman W. Griggs he founded the American Surety Company and upon his retirement, focused on literary work. He authored a prolific amount of poems, many of which were published in “Leaves of the Lotos” and “Flowers from the Wayside”.

He authored this poem entitled ‘Idylease’ in 1909 while a guest of the hotel.

We love to hear the wild birds greet
At morn their comrades in the trees
And feel the heart of nature beat
With Joyous throbs at Idylease

To gaze upon the pine-crowned hill,
And watch the streamlets downward flow,
From foaming falls and roaming rills.
Along the steeps of Ramapo.

To linger mid the shady scenes
Where rest Invites the weary mind,
And evil never Intervenes,
For thoughts are pure and unconfined.

To lie upon the dewless grass
And view above the radiant sky.
Then count the fleecy clouds that pass
Like scenes before the dreamer’s eye.

To mark the parent bird’s delight,
As nestlings plume their eager wings,
Intent upon their infant flight
In quest of more etherial things,

To muse o’er rocks and running rills,
And trace Pequannock’s whirls and bounds,
Whose liquid laughter
In the hills Fills all the air with soothing sounds.

To walk the woods alone with God
As Enoch did. unseen awhile.
And know the paths our feet have trod
Were lighted by his loving smile.

—David Banks Sickels (1837-1918)

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