O Cañon of Las Animas!
Within thy porphyry portals dim,
I tread thy gloomy gorge; I pass
Where writhen waters roaring swim,
Foam-shredded, down the dark abyss,
To gnaw thy gnarly granite roots,
And, round thy boulders curling, kiss
The sandals of the lordly buttes
That gaze upon thee, with the glow
Of sunset on their scalps of snow,
Grim warders of thy grand crevasse,
O Rio de las Perdidas!
Wild Cañon of Las Animas!
O Cañon of Las Animas!
Cut saber-wise clean to the core,
Sword-keen thy skyey cataract has
Cleft all thy cloudy ledges hoar,
In one fell sweep, from frost to flower.
Aloft, old Winter surpliced sits;
Alow, the wolf-cubs crouch and cower
When thro' the reek the raven flits;
From where, on thy sheer parapet,
The white stars nightly walk vidette
To the green pools wherein they glass
Their glory in Las Perdidas--
Wild Cañon of Las Animas!
O Cañon of Las Animas!
Thro' shambles of the slaughtered souls
Thy river of the lost, alas!
Scuds swiftly o'er skull-paven shoals,
Where tethered shades eternally
Scroll all thy sagging, sunless cliffs
With God's name, whom they can not see
In Hades' hopeless hieroglyphs,
Looking, all dumb and nettle-crowned,
Upon the blue face of the drowned,
Gyved hand and foot with graveyard grass
By Rio de las Perdidas--
Wild Cañon of Las Animas!
O Cañon of Las Animas!
Now is this lying legend peeled
From thy great fame forever, as
A ripe fig-skin, and thou revealed
Sublimest Nature's holiest shrine,
Where spirits, free from sinful dross,
Look up, to see above them shine
The "Mountain of the Holy Cross,"
Linteled with heaven and silver-silled,
Thy templed dome forever filled
With songs whose cadences surpass
The strong voice of Las Perdidas
Wild Cañon of Las Animas!
