The Great Stikeen Divide

A land of mountains based in hills of fir, Empty, lone, and cold. A land of streams Whose roaring voices drown the whirr Of aspen leaves, and fill the heart with dreams Of dearth and death. The peaks are stern and white The skies above are grim and gray, And the rivers cleave their sounding way Through endless forests dark as night, Toward the ocean's far-off line of spray.