Mountain Home maverick. [volume] (Mountain Home, Idaho) 1906-1911, 1906-06-07
Thunder Mountain Poet
Sings in Blank Verse Of
His Worship at Ma
lures Altar.

in close proximity to natures neart.
He leaves the beaten highways OF
his fellow men and draws apart into
the realms of untrackecd wilder
ness. About him mighty ranges
rise: the roar of foaming torrent is
heard through summer days, while
the terrific thunder of the avalanche
that hurls its fierce destructive
DO wer to valleys far below rcnds the
brooding silence that rests DER win
ter's whitencss; about his camp the
wild things come and go, and
through the night are heard the
.shrill screams of prowling beasts of
prev: dense forest of sombcr ever
green surround him oftentimcs and
in the shadows of the evening Or at
early dawn stands stately, calm and
fragrant and so beautifully pictur-
esuuc that he is unconsciously
drawn into the charm Of its en-
brace in a comradcship, as it were.
In early spring he awaits the 60
ing of the snow and notes with
.eagerness the coming OF the first
green grass; the robins morning
song is like martial music to his
feet, while the genial rays OF sun
shine cause him to overhaul his
outfit and prepare to 'hit the
trail' later on. And forth he goes
a child of Nature, a worshipper at
Natures shrine.
The true, old-time prospector is
a poet, always. Not, we mean, IN
the role of mere mechanically set
ting words to rhythmic meter, but
in the timer, broader sense that
Nature sings to him a song which
he can understand and the sent1-
mental chords within his heart are
awakened to a symphony OF re-
Spouse. And this song he hears all
through his life, along the trail and
where the trail does end amid the
reigning solitude of the wilderness.
And as the years pass on, this song
becomes sweeter and more harmo-
Nous, for time has painted many PIC
lures upon the walls OF memory,
and in retrospection this poet OF
nature often wanders back through
those galleries of the past to fondly
muse in fancy DER scenes that once
were real to him.
A little, rudely built cabin OF logs
stands in a bit of natural park al
the base of a massive range OF
peaks, while nearby rushing,
foaming, tumbling stream OF pures'
water roars furious1y down the can
yon. Pine and fir trees clothe the
mountain sides and hide away the
depths of gulch an fen. The peaks
of the higher range stand forth bare
and brown, save for banks of snow
upon their brows that seem so pure
and white in the fresh, clear air OF
early morn. A few low-lying
clouds hang lazliy at anchor in the
east and are beginning to Tighten
up with the glow of dawn. Soon
they catch beam of light and arc
changed to winged chariots OF gold
en- fire, from whose FURNISHED sides
a gentle light is reflected to the
peaks of earth. Then summit
more favored than its fellows re-
ceiyes a streak of sunshine that
presses upon it's rugged brow
diadem of gold, jeweled with myr-
lads of icy diamonds. Then other
peaks in turn reflect the yellow
glow, while down their sides il
pours in golden flood that drives
out the lurking shadows from the
canyons and lights the dim wood
lands and calls the feathered Hooks
to life and joyous song. In LITTLE
while a sudden burst OF flame leaps
out of the distant eastern range anc
ray of mellow light strikes the
little cabin and lights up the kindly
face of our old prospector, who stands
in the doorway watching with deeI
reverence the splendors of another
dawn.
And the expression on his rugged
features proclaims to me more
plainly than written words how L
this lone man, far removed iron
human kind, in the tangled depth
of virgin wilds Nature sings ever
wonderful song that strikes vi
brant, poetic chord within his hear
and causes him to wander on ant
on as long as he can hear the musi
of her voice. -Thunder Mountain
News.
D-o.,o Dooo ,.sfh noafh