 | Our Holiday Among The Hills |  |
A TRANSFORMATION.
All round a sky of dead continuous greySmothered the valley like a smoky tent,
Save that a small well-marked irregular rent
In the low roof let in a gleam of day.
All morning to that gap mine eyes would stray
For the blue freedom of the firmament,
And with that window I had been content
To gaze afar into the heavens alway.
But suddenly the travelling sun above
Came to the lattice, and lo! the earth was fair;
The clouds took on the lustre of a dove,
Twinkled, and flew, and melted into air!
—Such wonders works the smile of one we love
When we are half abandoned to despair!
| Our Holiday Among The Hills | |