The sun is peeking o'er the edge Of yonder blue and bristling ledge, And flinging o'er the vagrant night An aureole of golden light That crowns a ridge of regal firs, Whose plumes the morning zephyr stirs. The wind is like a wounded dove, Still sobbing soft her deathless love— So come with me and we will ride The lordly Umpqua's flowing tide, For none e'er dreamed a grander dawn Than greets the hills of Oregon. And none e'er dreamed a sweeter maid Than blends her charm with sheen and shade, The while her western spell she weaves With scent of wild vanilla leaves— Did e'er the Danube or the Don Bear fairer girls than Oregon? The skulking river seems to hide Where black basaltic bluffs divide; Weird Echo Island takes our shout And sends it bounding all about, While royal salmon sport and spring, Their golden armor glistening. We see old Bruin grunt and sniff And shuffle off behind a cliff; While by yon laurel's ruddy base, Unconscious of her sylvan grace, A doe is feeding with her fawn— And this is life in Oregon! Now hark old Neptune's rising roar, And mark the maples on the shore— Did not some Turner from the skies Here lavish all his mystic dyes To paint a cosmic masterpiece To grace a paradisan Greece? Smooth as yon coots upon the keel, Our launch glides onward, as we feel The charm where coast and country kiss In one enchanted land of bliss— Then know that life is scarce begun Until you've lived in Oregon. Talk not of "melancholy days," Of "naked woods" and "icy ways," And "dark forebodings of the snow"; Let old October come and go, For Spring and Summer blend in one When Autumn comes in Oregon! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...JOHN KEATS (1) by GEORGE GORDON BYRON A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 8 by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN A VALENTINE by LAURA ELIZABETH HOWE RICHARDS TO ALISON CUNNINGHAM; FROM HER BOY by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON THE WILD DUCK'S NEST by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH A SONNET. ON CYNTHIA SICK by PHILIP AYRES TO MR. BOWRING ON HIS POETICAL TRANSLATIONS by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |