Orizaba

Grace Hazard Conkling

Is it long to Orizaba?
  Have I far to go?
When I ask the carrier-pigeons,
 They don't know.

There's a mountain I am seeking,
  Feathered all with snow.
When I ask the valley orchids,
 They don't know.

Like an orchid pale and folded,
  Like a snowy bird,
That's the mountain I am seeking:
  Have you heard?
You can see it on the sunrise
  When the clear winds blow.
Is it far to Orizaba,
  Do you know?