Eastward the wise men sought to find a pass Where steel could lie and stretch its glistening limbs, Where steam could whistle from its lips of brass And continental traffic shriek its hymns; But from the javelined San Diego Bay Across the chaos of the mountains' girth There is no place where nature made a way To reach her empire burgeoned on the earth. A hundred million boulders piled on high While over age-dead heights the eagles pass— God's hands flung down those mountains burnt and dry, Yet in the cañons' depths grow tufts of grass; Then came a man whose dream was not forespent— Where mauve and orange lit the panicled forge He built a road, hewed out a monument And spun his steel along Carriso Gorge. |