The Long Trail

We tunnelled miles of silent pines, Dark forests where the stillness was so deep The scared wind walked a tip-toe on the spines, And the restless aspen seemed to sleep.

We threaded aisles of dripping fir; We climbed toward mountains dim and far, Where snow forever shines and shines, And only winds and waters are.

Red streams came down from hillsides crissed and crossed With fallen firs; but on a sudden, lo! A silver lakelet bound and barred With sunset's clouds reflected far below.

These lakes so lonely were, so still and cool, They burned as bright as burnished steel; The shadowed pine branch in the pool Was no less vivid than the real.

We crossed the great divide and saw The sun-lit valleys far below us wind; Before us opened cloudless sky; the raw, Gray rain swept close behind.

We saw great glaciers grind themselves to foam; We trod the moose's lofty home, And heard, high on the yellow hills, The wildcat clamor of his ills.

The way grew grimmer day by day, The weeks to months stretched on and on; And hunger kept, not far away, A never failing watch at dawn.

We lost all reckoning of season and of time; Sometimes it seemed the bitter breeze Of icy March brought fog and rain, And next November tempests shook the trees.

It was a wild and lonely ride. Save the hid loon's mocking cry, Or marmot on the mountain side, The earth was silent as the sky.

All day through sunless forest aisles, On cold dark moss our horses trod; It was so lonely there for miles and miles, The land seemed lost to God.

Our horses cut by rocks; by brambles torn, Staggered onward, stiff and sore; Or broken, bruised, and saddle-worn, Fell in the sloughs to rise no more.

Yet still we rode right on and on, And shook our clenched hands at the clouds, Daring the winds of early dawn, And the dread torrent roaring loud.

So long we rode, so hard, so far, We seemed condemned by stern decree To ride until the morning star Should sink forever in the sea.

Yet now, when all is past, I dream Of every mountain's shining cap. I long to hear again the stream Roar through the foam-white granite gap.

The pains recede. The joys draw near. The splendors of great Nature's face Make me forget all need, all fear, And the long journey grows in grace.