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.