By Will Farrell.
Land of a million smiles! Dame Nature's kiss
Upon the brow of yonder purple peaks
Clings long and soft and tender as she speaks
A bright "Good morning" after dreams of bliss.
Far down the shadowed aisles, an opal veil
Is lifting from each winding, ragged trail,
Disclosing, underneath, the plunging streams---
The silver threads which bound out night dreams.
The orange glow arising over all;
The drowsy glens, the vine-clad granite wall,
Forecasts the day as beauties manifold
Take shape and bloom in varied tints of gold.
Land of a million smiles and throbs and thrills;
Land of the kindly "Shepherd of the Hills;"
The poet's theme---the harpist's joy;
The human gold of earth without alloy;
Rare films of rapture yet unfurled,
In these, the Ozarks--garden of the world.
God clothed the Rockies with eternal snows;
The Alleghenies with the juniper and the rose.
When all was done, some odds and ends remained--
The choicest of them all. These He retained.
He painted and adorned each precious scrap
And flung the whole into the Ozarks's lap.
There they shall lie. There shall they bless mankind;
The fairest spot on all the earth designed.