Mount Shasta Collection

Poetry

Ridge, John Rollin. "Mount Shasta." History of Siskiyou County. By Harry L. Wells. Oakland, Calif.: D.J. Stewart, 1881. 1.

MOUNT SHASTA

Behold the dread Mount Shasta, where it stands

Imperial midst the lesser heights, and, like

Some mighty, unimpassioned mind, companionless

And cold. The storms of Heaven may beat in wrath

Against it, but it stands in unpolluted

Grandeur still; and from the rolling mists upheaves

Its tower of pride e'en purer than before.

The wintry showers and white-winged tempests leave

Their frozen tributes on its brow, and it

Doth make of them an everlasting crown.

Thus doth it, day by day, and age by age,

Defy each stroke of time; still rising highest

Into Heaven!

Aspiring to the eagle's cloudless height,

No human foot has stained its snowy side;

No human breath has dimmed the icy mirror which

It holds unto the moon, and stars, and sov'reign sun.

We may not grow familiar with the secrets

Of its hoary top, whereon the Genius

Of that mountain builds his glorious throne!

Far lifted in boundless blue, he doth

Encircle, with his gaze supreme, the broad

Dominions of the west, which lie beneath

His feet, in pictures of sublime repose

No artist ever drew. He sees the tall,

Gigantic hills arise in silentness

And peace, and it the long review of distance

Range themselves in order grand. He sees the sunlight

Play upon the golden streams which through the valleys

Glide. He hears the music of the great and solemn sea,

And overlooks the huge old western wall

To view the birthplace of undying Melody!

Itself all light, save when some loftiest cloud

Doth for a while embrace its cold, forbidding

Form, that monarch mountain casts its mighty

Shadow down upon the crownless peaks below,

That, like inferior minds to some great

Spirit, stand in strong contrasted littleness!

All through the long and summery months of our

Most tranquil year, it points its icy shaft

On high, to catch the dazzling beams that fall

In showers of splendor round that crystal cone,

And roll in floods of far magnifience

Away from that lone, vast reflector in

The dome of Heaven.

Still watchful of the fertile

Vale and undulating plains below,

The grass grows greener in its shade, and sweeter bloom

The flowers. Strong purifier! from its snowy crest

The breezes cool are wafted to the "peaceful

Homes of men," who shelter at it feet, and love

To gaze upon its honored form, aye standing

There the guarantee of health and happiness.

Well might it win communities so blest

To loftier feelings and to nobler thoughts--

The great material symbol of eternal

Things! And well I ween, in after years, how

In the middle of his furrowed track the plowman

In sume sultry hour will pause, and wiping

From his brow the dusty sweat, with reverence

Gaze upon that hoary peak. The herdsman

Oft will reign his charger in the plain, and drink

Into his inmost soul the calm sublimity;

And little children, playing on the green, shall

Cease their sport, and turning to that mountain

Old, shall of their mother ask: "Who made it?"

And she shall answer--"God!"