“All in the golden weather, forth let us ride to-day,
You and I together on the King’s Highway.
The blue skies above us, and below the shining sea;
There’s many a road to travel, but it’s this road for me.
...
It’s a long road and sunny, it’s a long road and old,
And the brown padres made it for the flocks of the fold;
They made it for the sandals of the sinner folk that trod
From the fields in the open to the mission-house of God.
...
We will take the road together through the morning’s golden glow,
And we’ll dream of those who trod it in the mellowed long ago;
We will stop at the Missions where the sleeping padres lay,
And we’ll bend a knee above them for their souls’ sake to pray.
We’ll ride through the valleys where the blossom’s on the tree,
Through the orchards and the meadows with the bird and the bee,
And we’ll take the rising hills where the manzanitas grow,
Past the grey tails of waterfalls where blue violets blow.
Old conquistadores, O brown priests and all,
Give us your ghosts for company when night begins to fall;
There’s many a road to travel, but it’s this road to-day,
With the breath of God above us on the King’s Highway.”