BUILDERS OF HIGHWAYS
Ranges, ruff-backed with their jagged trees,
Crawling and sprawling down into the seas,
Reaching their ragged, granite hands
Out through the shifting, drifting sands—
Out where the wild, white horses prance,
Tossing their manes—and the cormorants
Strut with the lions and blustering seals,
And the sun-god reels
With a splash of blood
Into the great, Pacific flood!
Crawling and sprawling down into the seas,
Reaching their ragged, granite hands
Out through the shifting, drifting sands—
Out where the wild, white horses prance,
Tossing their manes—and the cormorants
Strut with the lions and blustering seals,
And the sun-god reels
With a splash of blood
Into the great, Pacific flood!
And this is the welcome waiting you,
Drivers of chariots gold and blue—
You who fare
Under the heavens from everywhere—
This is the crowning of your quest
When you've looked in the heart of the great Northwest!
Drivers of chariots gold and blue—
You who fare
Under the heavens from everywhere—
This is the crowning of your quest
When you've looked in the heart of the great Northwest!
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