Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, YELLOWSTONE PARK-THE SECOND PARADISE, by WILLIAM STEWARD GORDON


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

YELLOWSTONE PARK-THE SECOND PARADISE, by                    
First Line: In ages past when art was young
Last Line: Within the walls of yellowstone.
Subject(s): Travel; Yellowstone National Park; Journeys; Trips


In ages past when Art was young,
And Music had not found her tongue,
Since man had fallen neath the curse,
The Maker of the universe,
In love, methinks, conceived to plan
Another paradise for man.

Exploring angels sought afar
To find a site where nought could mar,
And high upon the Rocky's crest,
Like a gate to heaven for the West,
They found a mystic land unknown,
Which now we call the Yellowstone.

'Twould be a place the race could sense
The grandeur of Omnipotence;
Where through the ages, hour by hour,
Would be displayed his sovereign power,
While every tender touch of love
Would woo the soul to things above.

All heights, all depths, all heat, all cold
Were fashioned in a mammoth mold.
Both heaven and hades tribute paid
When this new paradise was made,
For God in nature reigned alone
In carving out the Yellowstone.

But, as the hare more swiftness feels
Who hears the hound upon his heels,
And has another chance to live,
Which fair incentives could not give,
So God commends his love to men
By danger signals now and then.

Hence all the hideousness of hell,
With lurid light and noxious smell,
From every dark and dismal shore,
With horrid hiss and vengeful roar
Is raging like a living thing
From fiery pit and Stygian spring.

Great caldrons built on Titan plan,
Well named "The Devil's Frying Pan,"
And gushing geysers vent their wrath
And leave a brimstone aftermath.
But, awe and fury are not all
That's writ on sky and mountain wall.

For Beauty is a boon that's given
To bless this world, as well as heaven.
Fair angel artists sought afar
For shade and sheen from every star—
For every rare and radiant gem,
To deck the mountain's diadem.

The cliffs and clouds alike were kissed
With dyes of some great alchemist,
While sapphire flame and burnished gold
Were rolled in splendor, fold on fold,
To arch the canyon's yawning deep,
And paint the lakes that lie asleep.

The "Paint Pots" and the pools are here,
The "Easel Lake" and gossamer,
The "Sleeping Giant" and his seat—
An artist's studio all complete—
The God of Beauty held his throne
When heaven made the Yellowstone.

Anon, the moisture-laden breeze
Bore in its burden from the seas,
And soon a river leaped in play
And galloped toward the gates of day,
While to the westward hastened one
Where in the ocean falls the sun.

But, that the place thus set apart
Should ever keep to Nature's heart,
Old warden Winter shuts the gate,
And white-robed sentries stand in state,
While silent moons they come and go,
Until the flowrets pierce the snow.

'Tis paradise for beast and bird,
Where hunter's gun is never heard.
Here plays the antelope and fawn,
The eagle, osprey, and the swan;
The beaver builds his house in peace,
The wapati and moose increase.

And here converge from all the earth
The friends of truth, the knights of mirth.
The fainting heart and laggard brain
Are girded for their task again,
For God in nature reigns alone,
Within the walls of Yellowstone.





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