"They saw the silences 

 Move by and beckon ; saw the forms, 

 The very beards, of burly storms, 

 And heard them talk like sounding seas . . 

 They saw the snowy mountains rolled 

 And heaved along the nameless lands 

 Like mighty billows; saw the gold 

 Of awful sunsets; saw the blush 

 Of sudden dawn, and felt the hush 

 Of heaven when the day sat down 

 And hid his face in dusky hands." 



Joaquin Miller 



"In vain the speeding of shyness; 



In vain the elk takes to the inner passes of the woods . . . 



. . . where geese nip their food with short jerks, 

 Where sundown shadows lengthen over the limitless prairie, 

 Where herds of buffalo make a crawling spread of the square 



miles, far and near, 

 Where winter wolves bark amid wastes of snow and ice-clad 



trees . . . 

 The moose, large as an ox, cornered by hunters, plunging with 



his forefeet, the hoofs as sharp as knives . . . 

 The blazing fire at night, the sweet taste of supper, the talk, 



the bed of hemlock boughs, and the bear-skin." 



Walt Whitman 



