| |
| THE LAUGHING hours have chased away the night, | |
| Plucking the stars out from her diadem; | |
| And now the blue-eyed morn with modest grace, | |
| Looks through her half-drawn curtains in the East | |
| Blushing in smiles—and glad as infancy. | 5 |
| And see! the foolish Moon, but now so vain | |
| Of borrow’d beauty, how she yields her charms, | |
| And, pale with envy, steals herself away! | |
| The clouds have put their gorgeous livery on, | |
| Attendant on the day. The mountain tops | 10 |
| Have lit their beacons,—and the vales below | |
| Send up a welcoming. No song of birds, | |
| Warbling to charm the air with melody, | |
| Floats on the frosty breeze; yet Nature hath | |
| The very soul of music in her looks,— | 15 |
| The sunshine and the shade of poetry! | |
| I stand upon thy loftiest pinnacle, | |
| Temple of Nature! and look down with awe | |
| On the wide world beneath me, dimly seen. | |
| Around me crowd the giant sons of earth, | 20 |
| Fix’d on their old foundations, unsubdued,— | |
| Firm as when first rebellion bade them rise, | |
| Unrifted to the Thunderer;—now they seem | |
| A family of mountains, clustering round | |
| Their hoary patriarch,—emulously watching | 25 |
| To meet the partial glances of the day. | |
| Far in the glowing East, the flecking light, | |
| Mellow’d by distance,—with the blue sky blending,— | |
| Questions the eye with ever-varying forms. | |
| The sun is up;—away the shadows fling | 30 |
| From the broad hills, and hurrying to the west, | |
| Sport in the sunshine, till they die away. | |
| The many beauteous mountain-streams leap down, | |
| Out-welling from the clouds,—and sparkling light | |
| Dances along with their perennial flow. | 35 |
| And there is beauty in yon river’s path— | |
| The glad Connecticut. I know her well | |
| By the white veil she mantles o’er her charms. | |
| At times, she loiters by a ridge of hills, | |
| Sportfully hiding; then again with glee | 40 |
| Out-rushes from her wild-wood lurking-place. | |
| Far as the eye can bound, the ocean-waves | |
| And lakes and rivers, mountains, vales and woods, | |
| And all that holds the faculty entranced, | |
| Bathed in a flood of glory, float in air, | 45 |
| And sleep in the deep quietude of joy! | |
| There is a fearful stillness in this place— | |
| A presence that forbids to break the spell, | |
| Till the heart pours its agony in tears. | |
| But I must drink the vision while it lasts | 50 |
| For even now the curling vapors rise, | |
| Wreathing their cloudy coronals to grace | |
| These towering summits—bidding me away. | |
| But often shall my heart turn back again, | |
| Thou glorious eminence!—and when oppress’d | 55 |
| And aching with the coldness of the world, | |
| Find a sweet resting-place and home with thee. | |
| |
