Page:Mexico by Joseph Wharton.djvu/12

 Vast, sun-dried table lands, where dust-whirls rise

Like phantom serpents struggling to the skies;

Huge, barren mountains veined with precious ore,

Rich for past centuries, rich for ages more;

Broad, placid lakes where wildfowl feed and splash.

Superb ravines where plunging torrents dash,

Imperial peaks with gleaming snow-crest crowned,

The beacons of a hundred miles around; Large, fertile regions stretching warm and wide To meet the ocean bounds on either side;

Grandeur and loveliness in endless show;

Delicious air. All this is Mexico.