he was born in the lupine meadow high in the Santiam Pass;
Only a tiny bubbling spring singing in the emerald grass.
With gleeful shouts of water-spouts racing among the stones,
She lightly leaps down mountain sides seeking her Pacific Home.

See how rapidly Miss Santiam grows from rapids to rushing water-falls;
Wedding streams from Glacier snows, flinging sprayful water calls.
Then into canyons roaring, rumbling on through deeper runs;
Leaps with Laughter and joyful shouts out into the morning sun.

Down to the valley and quiter days through farms and fields and cottonwoods;
Slowed with age but graceful still, hums her curves with her worldly goods,
On to the shores of her Pacific Home... far out to sea... and then
She embraces the wind - flings up her arms carried to the mountains again...

Back to the Pass and bubbling spring,
Back to the emerald land...
Oh Glory! She returns to her youth again;
Santiam; the beautiful River Santiam.


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