--- title: Improvement Era description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930. authors: - Unknown collections: - periodicals tags: - magazine - improvement-era periodical: Improvement Era volume: 27 number: 12 published: 1924-10 publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations publisher_place: Salt Lake City language: en type: magazine reference: "Unknown, “By the Stream Side,” *Improvement Era 27, no. 12 (October 1924)*: 1162–1162." source: url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera27012unse 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: improvementera27012unse start_page: 1162 end_page: 1162 rights: status: public-domain basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1924-10) source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera27012unse publication_year: 1924 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 1924, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright. --- # 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.