I

Four are the terraced Mountains that uphold the Heaven in that Land and Four are the Colors that pattern the Life of Man.

In that land where the stars of the night are ever near and burning, --eyes of spirit watchers through the Black pine forest; In that land where the azures of day are quivering and intense, --precious the blue turquoise in the womb of the treasure hill; In that land where the red-scarred mesas sunder and canyon the earth, --walls of jasper and sard ribboned with malachite; In that land whose corners are keyed by heaven-locking mountains,----

Glorieta, the Herald of Morn, Sandia, who purpleth the South, Jemez, the hearth-fire of Evening, And fourth, the Hills of the North,

The cloud-gloomed and crimson-flared Mountains of Bleeding Christ.... In that land doth the white cumulus froth unto the blue summit of Day, and the ochres and beryls of earth fade into violet Night; In that land do the terraced hills uphold the terracing clouds; In that land do the Weavers of Rain spin filaments many and delicate,

silvering horizons many, veiling with luminous veils, baptismal with blessing....

There also marcheth the Sun in the splendor of Beauty; There also wandereth the Moon in the softness of Beauty; There all the colors unite, patterned in Beauty; There all the cloud-forms assemble, vestured in Beauty; Daily in that land man walketh in Beauty; Nightly in that land man dreameth in Beauty.