Mountains of Gold


Mountains of Gold
In the Sierras there is gold,
Gold on the trees before they turn brown,
Magnificent panoramas to behold,
While other gold lies beneath the ground,
There are those who beauty seek,
And come from miles around,
They rush to be the first to peek,
At the treasures to be found,
When mountains display splendor in the fall,
Sight seekers clamber over the hills to look,
As trees prepare for winter’s call,
These hunters press their gold within a book,
It’s also a time for those with softer heart,
The poets, artists, and lovers forsook,
To see the woods as a work of art,
To them this gold is but a passing fling,
But the other gold,
The one for paupers or king,
Is for hearts so bold,
Who search, risk, and toil,
For there are treasures buried there,
Beneath the mountain soil,
Over the years the hordes have come,
Their fevered minds filled with lust,
Dreaming big of fortunes to be made,
From nuggets, veins, or dust,
Around the world thousands came,
It was California gold or bust,
Thousands hoping to make a name,
For mining, murder, or mercantile,
The mountains were the place to be,
Mining camps flourished just for awhile,
Harte and Twain hurried there to see,
Thousands still try for gold to find,
Color is what they seek,
They wander through Gold Bug Mine,
Their interest still piqued,
And the cry, “Thar is gold in them hills,”
Brings searchers to their feet,
Mountain gold gives hearts a thrill,
For gold still has its mystique.

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