Editors Note: Here is a pretty fine lyrical poem about Tryon by Ella S. Stewart, published in the TDB on Tuesday, 18 January 1944.
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I am Tryon, and I call to me
All who are mine, although they may not know
As yet, the magic charm, the mystic spell
My azure mountains weave and pine trees blow.
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I call my clan to Blue Ridge Mountain sides,
Where tall trees quaff the sun and cheery grow;
Where Springtime hangs ten thousand fairy lights
In dogwood, redbud, and azaleas glow.
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I call from Melrose and from Rocky Spur,
Where leafy trails lure on to purple heights;
I pipe with cardinal and mockingbird,
And silvery stars that glorify my nights.
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I launch dream argosies from cliff and ridge
On floating veils of amethyst and blue,
In sunrise harmonies I tune my lyre
I am Tryon, and I call to you.
Ella S. Stewart, 1944