THE MOUNTAINS WEST

Far, far away, the mountains west,
Calling, calling, the soul free.
When clear the air bright fate
Gray of rocks, snow white, green tree!

Winters tumble down the rocks, steep,
Clear pools of waters in vale's shallow shadow,
Or rippling, lakes, with reflections deep!
Or blue, gray rocks where moss does grow!

Here are hidden many a mystery or tale,
Of those who came here, years before,
Love, hope, hate, in that nameless vale;
As well cheer, peace, content future in stone!

Those waiting, ancient rising peeks,
White deep snow, does not yet quiet lay,
On high cool summits, where night winds speak.
As day into night hardly does stray!