As the sun sinks And the cañons deepening in color Add mystery to silence Then the lone traveller lying out-stretched Beneath the silent pines on some high range Watches and listens in ecstasy of fear And timorous admiration.
In the roar of the stream he catches The reminiscent echo of colossal cataracts; In the cry of the cliff-bird He thinks he hears the eagle's scream Or yowl of far-off mountain-lion; In the fall of a loose rock He fancies the menacing footfall of the grizzly bear; And in the black deeps of the lower cañon His dreaming eyes detect once more Prodigious lines of buffalo crawling snake-wise Athwart the stream, Or files of Indian warriors Winding downward to the distant plain, Where camp-fires gleam like stars.