PORTRAITS OF THE SOUTHWEST

GRAND CANYON

I dare not tell of you, lest while the tale Were told a cloud should pass and all untrue Would be my words . . . .

Spellbound I see your lofty walls array Themselves in colors of the dawn or hue Of sunset afterglow

TEMPLE OF SINAWAVA

Temple of Sinawava! sacred shrine That God built for Himself, wherein to meet His worshippers . . .

CANYON DE CHELLY

A world shut in by walls of flaming red, Whose sheer unsloping cliffs descend until They meet a stream so turquoise blue and still It must be painted on the river bed.

BETA-TA-KIN

The very air is still-no earthly breath Distrubs its dream; a spring, which did not fail The past, still ripples down its rocky bed; Ah, what a setting for a life or death!

Erect, austere, unyielding to the winds, Undwarfed by distance or age, you stand, And all unsoftened by the haze of blue that binds The mighty rock, the pine and desert sand Forever into one . . .

BRYCE CANYON

White shapes appear as from darkness drawn By wave of fairy wand to greet the day; The night is overcome and sinks away; There in the shadow something moves, a fawn Comes toward the spring, then in a flash is gone . . .

Have all the mountains given up their gold? Is that a yellow sunset-cloud I see? Across the desert grease-wood buds unfold And spring is in the palo verde tree.