The Klickitat County Agriculturist, Goldendale, WA., October 3, 1908, page 1
"Klickitat Intelligence"

     F.H. Balch, author of "The Bridge of the Gods," no longer lies in an unmarked grave at Lyle. A ____ gray granite slab, brought from the hills of Lyle, was chiseled by L. Comini, a marble cutter of The Dalles Saturday and placed at Balch's grave in the little country cemetery three miles from Lyle. The work was done under the direction of the Historical society of The Dalles. A large assemblage of friends of the poet-preacher, Balch, from Goldendale, The Dalles, Lyle, Hood River and White Salmon met at the little school house near Lyle Saturday morning last to honor the memory of the man, who wrote "The Bridge of the Gods," and witness the ceremonies at his unmarked grave. There was a large number of school children present to participate in the exercises. The schoolhouse in which the people met was built for a church in 1889 by F.P. Balch, who has a Congregational minister, preached to his flock from the pulpit in that building. A tablet, bearing the inscription stating who caused the building to be erected, will be placed on the house so that those attending school there hereafter may know who its builder was. The ceremonies which are said to have been the most impressive of the kind ever held in Klickitat county.

The Klickitat County Agriculturist, Goldendale, WA., October 3, 1908, page 12

THE HILLS OF LYLE

The following poem, by T.R. Coon, was read at Balch's grave Saturday: (See page one for detailed description.)

How clear the sun comes o'er the hills
And casts long shadows for awhile
On rocks and plains, on lakes and rills
While songs of larks the morning fills
To praise the grand old hills of Lyle
Fair Wauna flows beneath the wall,
And murmurs low, as past the isle
Of Memaloose, the Indians all
When life is flown, and nightly pall
Hides now from him the hills of Lyle.
The red man comes, the red man goes
And Wauna's flood on the while.
The white man builds as best he knows,
But, red or white, the day must close.
And darkness claims the hills of Lyle.
Behold the double tracks of steel
That bind the rivers every mile.
How vain the sense of rest to feel
When barge and steamer, strong of keel,
Passed by to vex the hills of Lyle.
For those are but that tokens ill
Of man's man race for lucure vile
Give me the cottage by the hill
With orchard fair and man's goodwill,
And let me dream of ages flow
When cliff met cliff, in massive style
And shore to shore the arch made one
By "Bridge of Gods" eternal stone,
That joined, mayhap, the hills of Lyle.
The legends old, the red man's lore,
The poet's vision lives the while
When rocks eternal stand no more
To mark the path that gods of yore
Once trod, among the hills of Lyle,
Here Balch's spirit bowed in prayer
Mid nature's charms and heaven's smile,
And sang of "Genevieve", the fair,
No more with him, in life, to share Earth's joys, among the hills of Lyle.
And here, the mound of earth is shown,
And granite rock, to mark awhile
The poet's ashes, neath the stone,
He bore the cross, but not the crown,
Among the sacred hills of Lyle.
The bridge, and time, shall be no more,
That human hearts made free from guile
Shall feel no pain, or any shore,
And this my life, shall keep the in store
Sweet thoughts of thee, blessed hills of Lyle.
"Lift up mine eyes unto the hills"

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©  Jeffrey L. Elmer