Journey in the Light (Kings Canyon)

But He beholds the light, and whence it flows,     He sees it in his joy; The Youth, who daily farther from the east     Must travel, still is Nature's Priest,     And by the vision splendid     Is on his way attended; At length the Man perceives it die away, And fade into the light of common day. -William Wordsworth (1770-1850), Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood

Hour of Splendor (Kings Canyon)

What though the radiance which was once so bright Be now for ever taken from my sight,     Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower; -William Wordsworth (1770-1850), Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood

Autumn Shower (Yosemite)

Fear not; the leaves will strew Gems in abundance upon you. -Robert Herrick (1591-1673), Corinna's Going a-Maying

Sunset Incense (Yosemite)

So twice five miles of fertile ground With walls and towers were girdled round; And here were gardens bright with sinuous rills, Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree; -Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834), Kubla Khan

Farewell to the Shade (Yosemite)

The poplars are felled, farewell to the shade And the whispering sound of the cool colonnade, The winds play no longer, and sing in the leaves, Nor Ouse on his bosom their image receives. -William Cowper (1731-1800), The Poplar Field

A Small Cabin (Yosemite)

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree, And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made: Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee, And live alone in the bee-loud glade. And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow, Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings; There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow, And evening full of the linnet's wings. -William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), The Lake Isle of Innisfree

Welcome Party (Rainier)

This seraph-band, each waved his hand, No voice did they impart-- No voice; but oh! the silence sank Like music on my heart. -Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834), The Rime of the Ancient Mariner

Death of a Swan (Rainier)

The woods decay, the woods decay and fall, The vapors weep their burthen to the ground, Man comes and tills the field and lies beneath, And after many a summer dies the swan. -Alfred, Lord Tennyson,Tithonius, 1833-1860

Embracing Light (Kings Canyon)

But let my due feet never fail To walk the studious cloister's pale, And love the high embowèd roof, With antic pillars massy proof, And storied windows richly dight, Casting a dim, religious light. -John Milton (1608-1674), Il Penseroso

Glow in the Heart (Kings Canyon)

As I in hoary winter's night stood shivering in the snow, Surprised I was with sudden heat which made my heart to glow; And lifting up a fearful eye to view what fire was near, -Robert Southwell (c.1561-1595), The Burning Babe

Embracing Cloud (Kings Canyon)

Still let me sleep, embracing clouds in vain, And never wake to feel the day's disdain. -Samuel Daniel (1562-1619), Care-Charmer Sleep, Son of the Sable Night

Pilgrims (Kings Canyon)

There came at night into that lodging-place Twenty-nine in a group Of sundry people, by chance fallen Into fellowship, and they were all pilgrims Wanting to ride toward Canterbury. -Geoffrey Chaucer (c.1340-1400), The Canterbury Tales

Forms Revealed (Kings Canyon)

'Tis no sin love's fruit to steal, But the sweet theft to reveal: To be taken, to be seen, These have crimes accounted been. -Ben Johnson (1572-1637), Come, My Celia, Let Us Prove, from Volpone

Sorrow's Shroud (Yosemite)

And all that space my mirth adjourn So thou wouldst promise to return; And putting off thy ashy shroud At length disperse this sorrow's cloud. -Henry King (1592-1669), Exequy on His Wife

Dream Tree (Yosemite)

--But there's a Tree, of many, one, A single Field which I have looked upon, Both of them speak of something that is gone:     The Pansy at my feet     Doth the same tale repeat: Whither is fled the visionary gleam? Where is it now, the glory and the dream? -William Wordsworth (1770-1850), Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood

Lone Journey (Yosemite)

Martinmas wind, when wilt thou blow,     And shake the green leaves off the tree? O gentle death, when wilt thou come?     For of my life I am weary. -Anonymous (c.1400-c.1600), Waly, Waly

Silent Woods (Yosemite)

and wreathes of smoke Sent up, in silence, from among the trees, With some uncertain notice, as might seem, Of vagrant dwellers in the houseless woods, Or of some hermit's cave, where by his fire The hermit sits alone. -William Wordsworth (1770-1850), Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey

Last Hours (Yosemite)

Come, my Celia, let us prove While we may the sports of love; Time will not be ours forever, He at length our good will sever. -Ben Johnson (1572-1637), Come, My Celia, Let Us Prove, from Volpone

Walls of Coral (Yosemite)

Then the holy paths we'll travel, Strewed with rubies thick as gravel, Ceilings of diamonds, sapphire floors, High walls of coral and pearl bowers. -Sir Walter Ralegh (1554-1618), The Passionate Man's Pilgrimage

Vain Expectations (Wallace Falls)

When I (whom sullen care, Through discontent of my long fruitless stay In princes' court, and expectation vain Of idle hopes, which still do fly away Like empty shadows, did afflict my brain) Walked forth to ease my pain Along the shore of silver-streaming Thames; -Edmund Spenser (c.1552-1599), Prothalamion

Secret Joy (Wallace Falls)

Thou joy'st in better marks, of soil, of air, Of wood, of water; therein thou art fair. -Ben Johnson (1572-1637), To Penshurst

Paradise Lost (Point Reyes)

Of Man's first disobedience, and the fruit Of that forbidden tree whose mortal taste Brought death into the world, and all our woe, With loss of Eden. -John Milton (1608-1674), Paradise Lost

Wanderer of Woods (Great Smoky Mountains)

If this Be but a vain belief, yet, oh! how oft-- In darkness and amid the many shapes Of joyless daylight; when the fretful stir Unprofitable, and the fever of the world, Have hung upon the beatings of my heart-- How oft, in spirit, have I turned to thee, O sylvan Wye! thou wanderer thro' the woods,     How often has my spirit turned to thee! -William Wordsworth, Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey, 1798

Groves of Twilight (Great Smoky Mountains)

I write of groves, of twilights, and I sing The Court of Mab, and of the Fairy King; -Robert Herrick (1591-1673), The Argument of His Book

Journey's End (Guadalupe Mountains)

Come away, come away, death,     And in sad cypress let me be laid. Fly away, fly away, breath;     I am slain by a fair cruel maid. -William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Come Away, Come Away, Death, from Twelfth Night

Departure (Rainier)

I strove with none, for none was worth my strife:     Nature I loved, and next to Nature, Art: I warmed both hands before the fire of Life;     It sinks, and I am ready to depart. -Walter Savage Landor (1775-1864), I Strove with None, from The Last Fruit off an Old Tree

Starless Lake (Rainier)

Yon crescent Moon, as fixed as if it grew In its own cloudless, starless lake of blue; I see them all so excellently fair, I see, not feel, how beautiful they are! -Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834), Dejection: An Ode

I Saw Eternity (Rainier)

I saw Eternity the other night Like a great ring of pure and endless light.     All calm, as it was bright; And round beneath it, Time in hours, days, years,     Driv'n by the spheres Like a vast shadow mov'd; in which the world     And all her train were hurl'd. -Henry Vaughan (1622-1695), Silex Scintillans (1655), The World

Dance of the Spirit (Rainier)

While all the night, through fog-smoke white, Glimmered the white Moon-shine. -Samuel Taylor Coleridge, The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, 1798

Meet Me by Moonlight (Rainier)

Meet Me by Moonlight Alone. -Joseph Augustine Wade (1796-1845), Title of Poem

Blooming Morn (Rainier)

Get up, get up for shame! The blooming morn Upon her wings presents the god unshorn.     See how Aurora throws her fair,     Fresh-quilted colors through the air. -Robert Herrick (1591-1673), Corinna's Going a-Maying

First Light (Rainier)

That age is best which is the first,     When youth and blood are warmer; -Robert Herrick (1591-1673), To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time