Queenly promise and pride of the mother-name?

 Answered the mountains, dim in the distance dreaming: “Ours are the forests that treasure the riches of rain; Ours are the secret springs and the rivulets gleaming Silverly down through the manifold bloom of the plain.

Answered the mountains, dim in the distance dreaming:

“Ours are the forests that treasure the riches of rain;

Ours are the secret springs and the rivulets gleaming

Silverly down through the manifold bloom of the plain.

  “Vain were the toiling of men in the dust of the dry land, Vain were the ploughing and planting in waterless fields, Save for the life-giving currents we send from the sky-land, Save for the fruit our embrace with the storm-cloud yields.”

“Vain were the toiling of men in the dust of the dry land,

Vain were the ploughing and planting in waterless fields,

Save for the life-giving currents we send from the sky-land,

Save for the fruit our embrace with the storm-cloud yields.”

 O mother mountains, Madre Sierra, I love you! Rightly you reign o'er the vale that your bounty fills— Kissed by the sun, or with big, bright stars above you,— I murmur your name and lift up mine eyes to the hills.

O mother mountains, Madre Sierra, I love you!

Rightly you reign o'er the vale that your bounty fills—

Kissed by the sun, or with big, bright stars above you,—

I murmur your name and lift up mine eyes to the hills.

Pasadena, March, 1913.

 THE GRAND CANYON

DAYBREAK

 What makes the lingering Night so cling to thee? Thou vast, profound, primeval hiding-place Of ancient secrets,—gray and ghostly gulf Cleft in the green of this high forest land, And crowded in the dark with giant forms! Art thou a grave, a prison, or a shrine?

 Prev. P 63/647 next