In the golden West, by fond Nature blest, <br /> Lies a vale which my heart holds dear; <br />Where the zephyr blows from eternal snows <br /> And tempers the atmosphere; <br />Where the torrent falls o'er the mountain walls, <br /> As its thunderous echoes thrill, <br />Where the sparkling mist, by the rainbow kissed, <br /> Decks the Valley of San Miguel. <br /> <br />Where the birds of spring, in their season sing, <br /> Their spontaneous melodies; <br />Where the columbine and the stately pine <br /> Stand quivering in the breeze; <br />Where the aspen tall hugs the trachyte wall, <br /> And the wild rose bedecks the hill; <br />Where the willows weep, and their vigils keep, <br /> On the banks of the San Miguel. <br /> <br />Where the mountains high, cleave the azure sky, <br /> With their turrets so bleak and gray; <br />Where the morning light crowns the dizzy height, <br /> At the break of the summer's day; <br />Where the crags look down with an austere frown, <br /> O'er the valley so calm and still; <br />Where the mesas blue, blend their dreamy hue <br /> With the skies of the San Miguel. <br /> <br />Where the mountains hold a vast wealth of gold, <br /> In the quartz ledge and placer bar; <br />Where the hills resound with the constant sound <br /> Of the stamp mill's battering jar; <br />Where the waters dash with the rhythmic splash <br /> Of the cascade and mountain rill, <br />As they laugh and flow to the lands below, <br /> Through the turbulent San Miguel. <br /> <br />Where the shadows glide, in the eventide, <br /> As the sun, to nocturnal rest, <br />With the dazzling rays of a world ablaze, <br /> Sinks into the distant west; <br />When the yellow leaf of existence brief, <br /> Brings the hour when the pulse is still, <br />May my ashes rest in the golden West, <br /> On the banks of the San Miguel.<br /><br />Alfred Castner King<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-valley-of-the-san-miguel/
