Classic Poem

I see. . . .
(Having once seen the unforgettable)
I see chasms swimming in mountain-light,
Rocks, red and white, columns and domes and arches;
Golden-buff shoulders of near peaks,
White dazzle of far ones ...
Sheets of purple foam upon seas of blowing green;
Fluttering, glistening cotton-woods edging the pebbly glitter of arroyos;
Hay-stacks — golden bubbles upon high, still seas of bright stubble;
Little cedars scrambling upon the boulders to plant their ragged, windy banners;
The blue, blue, incredible blue of mountain-waters ...
God's dream spread out above me,
His playthings strewn at my feet. . . .

And here I stay under fatherly trees who indulgently tell me
They are near to the sky as any,
And tag after drawling red roads that smile at my high-flown fancies,
As they saunter along with their hands in their pockets,
Thinking that, maybe, day after tomorrow,
They will take a look at the crops from the top of the next little hill.