Rocky Mountain Height

The path was narrow;

the peaks touched the moon’s-way;

The high road hung

in the hollows of the hills.

The brazen breeze-highway

shone bright and cloudless,

An eye-aching upward,

of indigo’s color.

Shrill-criers soared

over sheer escarpments;

Bough-headed moor treaders

bugled in the vales.

Startling outcrops

stood out sharply;

Bluish masses

raised their brows from the slope.

Our heroes crested

hill after hill, 

Our friends fared onward

over fir-clad fells,

Capp’d with snow

and cloaked in trees,

With blossoms bright

under a blazing sun.