PICTURES.
by Joaquin Miller
y brave world-builders of the West!- Why, who doth know ye? Who shall know
- But I, that on thy peaks of snow
- Brake bread the first? Who loves ye best?
- Who holds ye still, of more stern worth
- Than all proud peoples of the earth?
- Yea, I, the rhymer of wild rhymes,
- Indifferent of blame or praise,
- Still sing of ye, as one who plays
- The same sweet air in all strange climes -
- The same wild, piercing highland air,
- Because-because, his heart is there.