 | Sonnets in Switzerland and Italy |  |
120
THE BIRENFLUH
ST. BEATENBERG
I never pass this towery, bastioned hill,
That looks upon the hollow gorge, where flow
The sounding streams of Gemmenalphorn's snow
To bless the vale and turn the water-mill,
Without a thought how patient and how still
Stand the dark firs in their embattled row
Of ceaseless watch—how stubbornly they grow,
What soldier bearing, what enduring will!
That looks upon the hollow gorge, where flow
The sounding streams of Gemmenalphorn's snow
To bless the vale and turn the water-mill,
Without a thought how patient and how still
Stand the dark firs in their embattled row
Of ceaseless watch—how stubbornly they grow,
What soldier bearing, what enduring will!
The drums of Heaven for battle roll afar,
The storm-winds blow their trumpets, and the stream
Leaps its fierce horses foaming from the steep;
But these dark sentinels—they only seem
With closer front a sterner guard to keep,
Sworn to obey one Lord in peace and war.
The storm-winds blow their trumpets, and the stream
Leaps its fierce horses foaming from the steep;
But these dark sentinels—they only seem
With closer front a sterner guard to keep,
Sworn to obey one Lord in peace and war.
| Sonnets in Switzerland and Italy | |