Colorado

The world of nations have their kings,
Where golden diadems glitter proud;
The King of States new glory brings,
With crowning head high in the cloud.
Colorado is the King of States,
With crowns of gold wrapped in the sky,
And from her walls the Golden Gate
Is hinged on silver gleaming high.
Her mountain peaks are fringed with gold,
Her walls are knit with silver strands,
And silver brick just from the mould
Are piled on pavements through the land.
Her snow-capped peaks of purity
Send health and long life through the vale,
And ages of obscurity
Are now the ages of the rail.
With windings through the walls so tall,
And grading up the mountain side,
With power and room for one and all,
Who on the rail may wish to ride;
Over the range they puff and blow,
Ten thousand feet up in the sky,
Pass all the clouds which drift below,
And wrap in golden clouds on high.
Tornado storms, in smutty sheet,
Swift howl around the peak so high,
But dip their wings beneath the feet
Of those who may be on the fly.
The golden rays flash from the sun,
As nature sinks it down to rest,
And when its course is fully run,
All heaven is golden in the west.
The King of States, and king of all,
With tallest peaks e’er crowned with gold,
And deeper gorges, higher walls
Than crown the Switzerland of old.
Fertile valleys, crystal fountains,
And many wide extending plains,
Spread between her snow-capped mountains,
Checkered with railroads and sweeping trains.