The Serried Rockies

Great Shields brunting the plain, motionless: The red Warriors peer over them stonily.

The lances of Morning are flung aloft! The Plains rise up with a fierce cry---- The Tribes of the Dawn are exultant!

Great Shields brunting the plain, purple after the day: The dark Warriors peer over them grimly.

THE MUMMY (Estes Park)

In the time of the First Race, In the time of the Giants, In the time of the Earth-Shapers,----

Their axes were flakes of cliffs, Their mallets were the knobs of mountains, The great rocks roared with the sound of their handiwork,----

He was a Chieftain among them, He was their First Counsellor, He was the Master Builder when they upreared mighty hills and clave the deep valleys....

For the place of his Mummy they hewed the crested Earth, For the sarcophagus of his Mummy they established a Mountain, In the days when his work was completed, he, the First Counsellor!

Above the changing clouds they raised him high; They set his face to the eternal blue; His eyes they set to the westering Sun....

What is it that thou dost behold, O Chieftain of the Earth-Shapers? What is it that thou dost look upon within the mirror of the skies? With thy stony eyes, what is it that thou dost see--forever?

Men are, and they are not; Tribes are, and they are not; Nations are, and they are not,----

Beyond the cycles of the years, Beyond the portals of time, What is it that thou dost behold, with stony eyes, with unchanging heart?

Immutable, thou gazest into the blue---- Maker to Maker! Imperturbable, thou facest the westering Sun---- Chieftain to Chieftain!

Immutable, thou gazest into the blue-- Maker to Maker! Imperturbable, thou facest the Westering Sun-- Chieftain to Chieftain! ]

THE PRIESTS (Estes Park)

Holy, holy, holy! The high hills, the Great Mystery!... The procession of the mountains is eternal, The great mountains, each in his station abiding.... The crests of the mountains are exalted, In the glories of the heavens they are transfigured!

Holy, holy, holy! The high hills, the Great Mystery!... The mountains lift up their heads---- Into the azure they lift them up; Their bodies are swathed in silver light, Their bodies are made luminous with splendors!

Holy, holy, holy! They are the Priests of God, They are the Processional of the Great Mystery!... Their deep-toned voices are a singing hymn, Their deep-toned voices are chanting the anthem of God; In the House of Heaven they sing an eternal song!

The Procession of the Mountains is eternal, The great Mountains, each in his station abiding. ]