Beneath the ancient, towering pines,
Where rivers carve their timeless lines,
The whispers of the earth resound,
Echoes of history, profoundly found.

In meadows where the wildflowers bloom,
And mountains stand in quiet gloom,
The spirits of the past reside,
In nature’s arms, they gently bide.

The eagle soars in skies so vast,
Reflecting on the ages past,
The buffalo once roamed these plains,
A symbol of life’s sacred chains.

O’er deserts wide and forests deep,
The native heart’s eternal keep,
In every leaf and flowing stream,
Lives a timeless, sacred dream.