It’s early Spring and the mountains
Are once again calling to me
Patches of snow in the meadow
A glimpse of a rushing stream
Visions of peaks and pine-clad slopes
Are what I’m longing to see.

There is often a call from the mountains
For the peace and tranquility there
The silence that surrounds me
The vastness of the sky
The all encompassing wildness
No other place can compare.
THE CALL OF THE MOUNTAINS
By: Frederick Laird
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