| |
| FAR off the old snows ever new | |
| With silver edges cleft the blue | |
| Aloft, alone, divine; | |
| The sunny meadows silent slept, | |
| Silence the sombre armies kept, | 5 |
| The vanguard of the pine. | |
| |
| In that thin air the birds are still, | |
| No ringdove murmurs on the hill | |
| Nor mating cushat calls; | |
| But gay cicalas singing sprang, | 10 |
| And waters from the forest sang | |
| The song of waterfalls. | |
| |
| O Fate! a few enchanted hours | |
| Beneath the firs, among the flowers, | |
| High on the lawn we lay, | 15 |
| Then turned again, contented well, | |
| While bright about us flamed and fell | |
| The rapture of the day. | |
| |
| And softly with a guileless awe | |
| Beyond the purple lake she saw | 20 |
| The embattled summits glow; | |
| She saw the glories melt in one, | |
| The round moon rise, while yet the sun | |
| Was rosy on the snow. | |
| |
| Then like a newly singing bird | 25 |
| The child’s soul in her bosom stirred; | |
| I know not what she sung;— | |
| Because the soft wind caught her hair, | |
| Because the golden moon was fair, | |
| Because her heart was young. | 30 |
| |
| I would her sweet soul ever may | |
| Look thus from those glad eyes and gray, | |
| Unfearing, undefiled: | |
| I love her; when her face I see, | |
| Her simple presence wakes in me | 35 |
| The imperishable child. | |
| |
