---
title: Improvement Era
description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930.
authors:
  - Peters, T. McClure
collections:
  - periodicals
tags:
  - magazine
  - improvement-era
periodical: Improvement Era
volume: 22
number: 4
published: 1919-02
publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations
publisher_place: Salt Lake City
language: en
type: magazine
reference: 'Peters, T. McClure, "The Cliff-Dweller," *Improvement Era* 22, no. 4 (February 1919): 312.'
source:
  url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera2204unse
  transcription: Transcribed from the Internet Archive scan of each issue (the item for each issue is named in the issue's own source); unnumbered advertising leaves are omitted, printed page numbers are kept as page markers.
  identifier: improvementera2204unse
start_page: 312
end_page: 312
rights:
  status: public-domain
  basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1919-02)
  source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera2204unse
  publication_year: 1919
  note: The Internet Archive item metadata carries a blanket "© Copyright by Intellectual Reserve, Inc." notice. The library owner judged it inapplicable because this issue was published in 1919, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright.
---

# The Cliff-Dweller

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Home Poems
                                The Cliff-Dweller
Up among the mountain crags               When the winter snows come down
  Where the nights are cold,                Covering us so deep,
Where the brightest sunshine falls,       All the wise men in the world
  In our high stronghold,                   Think we are asleep,
We, the Marmots of the cliffs,            Think we sleep for seven months,
  Whistle all day long,                     Little do they know
Love and life and happiness,              Of our winter jollity
  That is   all    our sons.                Underneath the snow;

We, from our aerie perches                  Scuttling through our galleries,
  vOn the fallen rocks,                       Cuddling close and warm,
Basking in the warm sunshine,               Feeding on the choicest roots
  Watch the feeding flocks;                   Free from fear of harm;
Far below the valley wide                   None to hear our joyous calls
  Stretches green and bright,                 Or our grunts of glee,
See its shining river there,                As we wear the winter out
  Sparkling thread of light.                  With festivity.

This our high-set Citadel,                  When the sun grows warm again
  Twice one hundred we,                       Kissing    off   the snow,
Chubby balls of ruddy fur,                  From our chambers underground
  Happy, fat and free.                        To the light we go.
Listen to our piping calls,                 Feasting on the fresh, green shoots,
  Notes so clear and gay,                     Whistling love notes clear,
Echo round the mountain walls,              In our village of the rocks,
  Cliffs of rose and gray.                    Happy all the year.
                                                             T. McClure Peters
Kaysville, Utah