“At last! at last! O steed new-born, Born strong of the will of the strong New World, We shoot to the summit, with the shafts of morn, On the mount of Thunder, where clouds are curl’d, Below in a splendor of the sun-clad seas. A kiss of welcome on the warm west breeze Blows up with a smell of the fragrant pine, And a faint, sweet fragrance from the far-off seas Comes in through the gates of the great South Pass, And thrills the soul like a flow of wine. The hare leaps low in the storm-bent grass, The mountain ram from his cliff looks back, The brown deer hies to the tamarack.
[Illustration: THE GOLDEN GATE, IN AND OUT OF WHICH PASSES DAILY MANY A WEALTHY ARGOSY]
“On, on, o’er the summit; and onward again, And down like the sea-dove the billow enshrouds, And down like the swallow that dips to the sea, We dart and we dash and we quiver and we Are blowing to heaven white billows of clouds.
“The Humboldt desert and the alkaline land, And the seas of sage and of arid sand That stretch away till the strain’d eye carries The soul where the infinite spaces fill, Are far in the rear, and the fierce Sierras Are under our feet, and the hearts beat high And the blood comes quick; but the lips are still With awe and wonder, and all the will Is bow’d with a grandeur that frets the sky.
“A flash of lakes through the fragrant trees, A song of birds and a sound of bees Above in the boughs of the sugar-pine. The pick-axe stroke in the placer mine, The boom of blasts in the gold-ribbed hills, The grizzly’s growl in the gorge below Are dying away, and the sound of rills From the far-off shimmering crest of snow, The laurel green and the ivied oak, A yellow stream and a cabin’s smoke, The brown bent hills and the shepherd’s call, The hills of vine and of fruits, and all The sweets of Eden are here, and we Look out and afar to a limitless sea.
[Illustration: THE FERRY BUILDING, THE MARKET STREET (SAN FRANCISCO) STATION OF THE SOUTHERN PACIFIC AND THE WESTERN TERMINAL OF THE OVERLAND ROUTE]
“We have lived an age in a half-moon-wane! We have seen a world! We have chased the sun From sea to sea; but the task is done. We here descend to the great white main— To the King of Seas, with its temples bare And a tropic breath on the brow and hair.” —_Joaquin Miller._