 | Under the dawn |  |
197
2.
Since not in mountain-regions I was born,
But by the silver bank of gliding Thames,
Where many an iron steamer duly stems
The current, somewhat have I of high scorn
For singers who can only sound their horn
In lofty regions, where the sun begems
Cold mountain-tops—whose blazing diadems
From lustrous scenes of easy thought are torn.
But by the silver bank of gliding Thames,
Where many an iron steamer duly stems
The current, somewhat have I of high scorn
For singers who can only sound their horn
In lofty regions, where the sun begems
Cold mountain-tops—whose blazing diadems
From lustrous scenes of easy thought are torn.
The grandeur of a mountain, who denies?
Grant me the patient insight, heavenly muse,
To own thy sacred presence 'mid dim skies,
And low surrounding flats of slime and ooze
O'er which the wandering love-sick plover flies,
Tender with uniformity of hu es.
Grant me the patient insight, heavenly muse,
To own thy sacred presence 'mid dim skies,
And low surrounding flats of slime and ooze
O'er which the wandering love-sick plover flies,
Tender with uniformity of hu es.
| Under the dawn | |