By the Stream Side

^By* {he Stream Side AT THE ENTRANCE TO BELL'S CANYON O'er this wild place a thrilling silence lies, A solemn hush that's dwelt since days of old; One voice alone, the mountain waters cold, Speaks of the ages, time that never dies. To make the centuries, the moments pass — Before our race, here long the glaciers crept — Creation's acme still the future kept; While ancient ice carved yonder granite mass. These heights of stone arose from depths of sea ; And nature's labors, in the distant past, Left high the peaks and sank the hollows vast — The land was changed and was that man might be. And here we came beside this beauteous stream — Great Nature host unto each transient guest, We speak in awe or speak in idle jest, Yet in each heart is stirred life's golden dream. O sunken gorge, and thou, O peaked height, That tell strange legends of the day that's been, What am I taught amid this awful scene? Hope, flower-like still, within, the Soul's wide light! Alfred Lambourne.