Old Year Leaves | ||
102
LINES ON LOOKING UP THE VALE OF BARÉGES FROM ST. SAUVEUR, HAUTES PYRÉNÉES, FRANCE.
Lo! what a glorious prospect is revealedOf mountains, snow, and verdant loveliness;
Upon the sloping sides of monarch heights
Reposes now the mist, most gracefully,
In wreaths almost transparent; presently
Its mass divides, and clear against the sky
Appears each giant summit grandly calm,
And seeming proud that its lone God-wrought strength
So long defies decay. One ever feels
In gazing on such scenes how weak is man,
Yet still how much his art hath made increase
To this rare store of beauty. Each small patch
Perceived upon the mountain-side, reclaimed
103
To cheer the eye. To me it often seems
As though no prospect were indeed complete
Without some trace of toil to leaven it.
Old Year Leaves | ||