My love is such that I cannot compare
For these: the rugged steeples of the vale,
The streams that seem to flow through ev’ry space
That hold the stories of the rocks in place,
The lakes that teem with clarity and grace,
The aspen wind that whips across my face,
The secret plan of ev’ry wild bud’s bloom
Held guarded by sweet nature’s ruse of “fields.”
And last, the creatures of the large expanse,
That hold the secrets of the past. Of these
Not all are writ, but all are dearly loved.
All share the land with equal rights. No sign
Of jealous human trait doth have effect.
Its place is filled with life’s great life and all
The foretold treasures of eternal life.
The blaze of sun that shines across the site,
It fills my heart with warmth and gleam and trust.
The best in art could not capture this sense
In sight! My heart beats in same time with it,
Encompassed in the strides of running wolves,
The winged beat of flocking birds above,
The rushing flow of water down the falls,
The boom of bison hooves across the land,
The rhythm of the grasses in the wind,
And all the tuneful sounds of my homeland.
Ev’ry year this beat leads me to my true
Place, among the peaks of James Cooke’s small’st range.
I come to see my family here, within
The stars, the crests, the lakes, the pines, the life.
I wait in angst for the one day when I
May come and never leave. For that one day,
I cannot wait, but all the same, my heart still stays.