Born from the depths before the birth of years,
When burdened mothers would not grieve nor tire,
And fathers all forbade the cringing fears;
But listened there some one with painful ears,
And the mighty throes foredoomed some heart to pine.
But seen, thy solid form and brow so fine—
Ah, then, who dares to feebly pine or mock?
Men drink, for forthwith flows a mystic wine,
When they thy glory see, eternal Chimney Rock.
