THE red deer loves the chaparral, <br />The hawk the wind-rocked pine; <br />The ouzel haunts the rills that race <br />The cañon's steep incline; <br />But the wild sheep from the battered rocks, <br />Sure foot and fleet of limb, <br />Gets up to see the stars go by <br />Along the mountain-rim. <br /> <br />For him the sky-built battlements, <br />For him the cliff and scar, <br />For him the deep-walled chasms <br />Where the roaring rivers are; <br />The gentian-flowered meadow-lands, <br />The tamarack slope and crest, <br />Above the eagle's screaming brood, <br />Above the wild wolf's quest. <br /> <br />When in the riot of the storms <br />The snow-flowers blossom fair, <br />The cattle get them to the plain, <br />The howlers to the lair. <br />The shepherd tends his foolish flocks <br />Along the mountain's hem; <br />But free and far the wild sheep are, <br />And God doth shepherd them.<br /><br />Mary Austin<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-rocky-mountain-sheep/
