In the land of Ansel Adams
Stands the trees so green and stately
And the streams as clear as crystal
Smooth the rocks as old as time

All around the serene valley
Where God's creatures roam the meadows
Are the great majestic mountains
Sentinels to this land sublime

Can't you hear the breezes whisper
Of the people long forgotten
In their houses they called Tee Pees
Living peacefully on this land

Hunting only what they needed
Fishing from the clear, cold waters
Sharing all the many riches
Of this wilderness so grand

And the eagles, if you listen
Tell of winters when the snow fell
Covering the Indian Tee Pees
Standing near the river's shore

How they sat around their fires
While the winds blew fierce around them
Telling all the black eyed children
Ancient tales of Indian lore

Now the old ones have all vanished
And their stories have died with them
But the legacy they left us
Is a gift for all to share

All the beauty of Yosemite
Tallest mountain - deepest valley
Waterfalls of misty splendor
Nature's wonders, oh so rare

-- Jean L., Adult