My Native Mountains

Effie Waller Smith

My Native Mountains.

I love my native mountains,
The dear old Cumberland,
Rockribbed and everlasting,
How great they are, and grand!

I love each skyward reaching peak,
Each glassy glade and dale,
Each moss-and-fern-clad precipice
Each lovely flower decked vale.

I love each vine-hung rocky glen
I love each dark ravine
Though there may hide the catamount
And wild dog sly and mean.

I love my mountains' forests
Varied and beautiful
I love her springs and waterfalls,
So pure and wonderful.

I love her richly plumaged birds
The pheasant and the jay,
The merry scarlet tanager,
The woodpeck bright and gay.

How oft among these mountains
Has the silvery music clear
From the lark's throat cheered the traveler,
And the honest mountaineer.

But more than these old mountains
Which with wonder I revere
I love with true devotion
The people who live here.

So here's with love sincere and dear
For her sons of brawn and worth;
And her daughters pure and lovely,
The fairest types of earth.