Homesick

~Beautiful Willamette~

From the Cascades’ frozen gorges,
Leaping like a child at play,
Winding, widening through the valley,
Bright Willamette glides away;
Onward ever,
Lovely river,
Softly calling to the sea,
Time, that scars us,
Maims and mars us,
Leaves no track or trench of thee.

Spring’s green witchery is weaving
Braid and border for thy side;
Grace forever haunts thy journey,
Beauty dimples on thy tide;
Through the purple gates of morning
Now thy roseate ripples dance,
Golden then, when day, departing,
On thy waters trails his lance.
Waltzing, flashing,
Tinkling, splashing,
Limpid, volatile, and free—
Always hurried
To be buried
In the bitter, moon-mad sea.

In thy crystal deeps inverted
Swings a picture of the sky,
Like those wavering hopes of Aidenn,
Dimly in our dreams that lie;
Clouded often, drowned in turmoil,
Faint and lovely, far away—
Wreathing sunshine on the morrow,
Breathing fragrance round to-day.
Love would wander
Here and ponder.
Hither poetry would dream;
Life’s old questions,
Sad suggestions,
Whence and whither? throng thy stream.

On the roaring waste of ocean
Shall thy scattered waves be tossed,
‘Mid thy surge’s rhythmic thunder
Shall thy silver tongues be lost.
Of thy glimmering rush of gladness
Mocks this turbid life of mine!
Racing to the wild Forever
Down the sloping paths of Time.
Onward ever,
Lovely River,
Softly calling to the sea;
Time that scars us,
Maims and mars us,
Leaves no track or trench on thee.

- Samuel L. Simpson

The lovely dappled up-and-down land called Oregon, it has an ever-green beauty as seductive as the lotus of ancient myth....
The mighty Columbia River flows from East to West like a master sculptor who has left his mar, chiseling and cutting the rocks to form a gorge in which each ripple leaves a spark.

The caves are carved through unreckoned ages, they are weirdly beautiful caverns in which clusters of intricately sculptured marble hang from frescoed ceilings like frozen flowers. Out-thrust from the walls are shelves adorned with bric-a-brac fashioned by nature, some of it grotesque, but all of it arresting in its cold brilliance.

The beautiful Crater Lake is nature’s mirror. As the sky admires its own beauty and surrounding glow, so perfect is the scene that even the wind forgets to blow.
The forests make a claim upon my heart, the wonderful smell that emanates from old trees change and renew my weary spirit. The silence of an ending path, leaves moving in one long whisper. A forest clothed to its very hollows in snow. The ecstasy of nature, every blade of grass, every fir tree, every spire of reed, every intricacy of twig, is clad with radiance.

The farms are endless and lush, boundless and filled with billowing stalks of grain.
The ocean reflects back to me my dreams, I know that eternity will forever begin and end with its tides. The unfathomable depths, the dreamy quietude that washes over me when I behold it's tranquil beauty and brilliance. The sounds of the waves, a severe, ascetic music, calm and inviting, monotonous by virtue of its serenity, anti-sensuous and yet so intense that it verges on ecstasy.

The rain falls down and kisses my face. I am child again, running around, trying to catch every last drop in my mouth. With my hands held high, I worship the sky. I dance and I splash, never ceasing to laugh.

I am homesick......