We go but leave you standing, Your rugged form against the sky, Against the deep gray mountains piling high.
With gloved hand clasping aneroid You stand at rest, And look with eyes that see that other day unto the west.
Buttoned close in cloak of woodsman, For cold is the snow, Far is the dawn in the mountains you, the explorer, know.
Bronze is the metal for heroes, Heroes of sun and of rain, Heroes of lonely seeking, the distant dawn, and the snow-driven plain.
As the mountains stand, you shall stand. Your hand shall point the way, The way through the pass in the mountains to the hidden seas of to-day.
Glacier National Park.