Front:
775
SUNSET ON THE
WILLAMETTE
The sun sinks downward
thru the silver mist
That looms across the valley,
fold on fold,
And sliding thru the fields
that dawn has kissed,
Willamette sweeps, a chain
of liquid gold.
Trails onward ever, curving
as it goes,
Past many a hill and many
a flowered lea,
Until it pauses where
Columbia flows,
Deep-tongued, deep-chested
to the waiting sea.
O lovely vales thru which
Willamette slips!
O vine clad hills that hear
its soft voice call!
My heart turns ever to their
sweet, cool lips,
That, passing, press each
rock or grassy wall.
Thru pasture lands, where
mild-eyed cattle feed
Thru marshy flats, where
velvet tulles grow.
Past many a rose tree, many
a singing reed,
I hear those wet lips calling,
calling low.
The sun sinks downward
thru the trembling haze
The mist flings glistening nee-
dles higher and higher.
And thru the clouds-
O fair beyond all praise!
Mt. Hood leaps, chastened,
from a sea of fire.
© ELLA HIGGINSON
MT. HOOD FROM LOST LAKE, OREGON
BA-H3203
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**C.T. ART-COLORTONE' REG.U.S. PAT. OFF.-WESLEY ANDREWS CO., PORTLAND, ORE.
