The River of the West

There sinks the sun; like cavalier of old,Servant of crafty Spain,He flaunts his banner, barred with blood and gold,Wide o'er the western main;A thousand spear heads glint beyond the treesIn columns bright and long,While kindling fancy hears upon the breezeThe swell of shout and song.

And yet not here Spain's gay, adventurous hostDipped sword or planted cross;The treasures guarded by this rock-bound coastCounted them gain nor loss.The blue Columbia, sired by the eternal hillsAnd wedded with the sea.O'er golden sands, tithes from a thousand rills,Rolled in lone majesty —

Through deep ravine, through burning, barren plain,Through wild and rocky strait.Through forest dark, and mountain rent in twainToward the sunset gate;While curious eyes, keen with the lust of gold,Caught not the informing gleam,These mighty breakers age on age have rolledTo meet this mighty stream.

Age after age these noble hills have kept,The same majestic lines ;Age after age the horizon's edge been sweptBy fringe of pointed pines.Summers and Winters circling came and went,Bringing no change of scene ;Unresting, and unhasting, and unspent.Dwelt Nature here serene!

Till God's own time to plant of Freedom's seed,In this selected soil ;Denied forever unto blood and greed,But blest to honest toil.There sinks the sun ; Gay cavalier no more IHis banners trail the sea,And all his legions shining on the shoreFade into mystery.

The swelling tide laps on the shingly beach,Like any starving thing ;And hungry breakers, white with wrath, upreach.In a vain clamoring.The shadows fall ; just level with mine eyeSweet Hesper stands and shines,And shines beneath an arc of golden sky,Pinked round with pointed pines.

A noble scene ! all breadth, deep tone, and power,Suggesting glorious themes ;Shaming the idler who would fill the hourWith unsubstantial dreams.Be mine the dreams prophetic, shadowing forthThe things that yet shall be,When through this gate the treasures of the NorthFlow outward to the seat