When the old spring fret comes o’er you,
And the Red Gods call for you!
They will see the lakeside lilies where the bull moose meets the cow,
Or maybe silver grizzlies nurse the sow.
They must climb the blue-roofed Rockies and observe that windy rift
Where the baffling mountain eddies chop and change.
They will learn the long day’s patience, belly down on talus drift,
And hear the thud of bison on the range.
It is there that they are going where the bighorn and the ewes lie,
To a trusty, nimble ranger that they know;