 | Tales in Verse for Young People |  |
165
LIFE AMONG THE MOUNTAINS.
The splintered, northern mountains lay
All round about my mother's dwelling,
All full of craggy hollows gray,
Where ice-cold, sparkling streams were welling.
All round about my mother's dwelling,
All full of craggy hollows gray,
Where ice-cold, sparkling streams were welling.
Upon the mountains lay the snow,
Far-gleaming snows that melted never;
And deeply, darkly, far below,
Went sounding on, a lonely river.
Far-gleaming snows that melted never;
And deeply, darkly, far below,
Went sounding on, a lonely river.
166
Upon the mountain summits hung
The tempest-clouds so darkly scowling,
And winds in caverned hollows sung,
Like unto desert creatures howling.
The tempest-clouds so darkly scowling,
And winds in caverned hollows sung,
Like unto desert creatures howling.
Day after day the sunshine slept,
Night after night the moon was hidden;
And rain and wind about us kept,
Week after week, like guests unbidden.
Night after night the moon was hidden;
And rain and wind about us kept,
Week after week, like guests unbidden.
And many a time the deep snows fell
In the dark months of winter weather,
And quite shut in our mountain dell,
We and our lonely flock together.
In the dark months of winter weather,
And quite shut in our mountain dell,
We and our lonely flock together.
We had a little flock of sheep,
I herded them both night and morning;
My mother in the house did keep
Her busy wheel for ever turning.
I herded them both night and morning;
My mother in the house did keep
Her busy wheel for ever turning.
What joy it was, as I brought them round,
Into their pen at nightfall darkling,
To hear that old wheel's droning sound,
And see the cheerful wood-fire sparkling!
Into their pen at nightfall darkling,
To hear that old wheel's droning sound,
And see the cheerful wood-fire sparkling!
167
On stilly eves, beside my flock,
The sounds I heard will haunt me ever,
The eagle rising from the rock,
The wind-borne roaring of the river:
The sounds I heard will haunt me ever,
The eagle rising from the rock,
The wind-borne roaring of the river:
The gathering of the coming storm,
Like far-off angry giants talking;
The gray mist like a ghostly form
Over the ridgy mountain stalking!
Like far-off angry giants talking;
The gray mist like a ghostly form
Over the ridgy mountain stalking!
I saw, I heard, I loved them all;
My days and nights were never weary,
Though many a passing guest would call
My life forlorn, those mountains dreary.
My days and nights were never weary,
Though many a passing guest would call
My life forlorn, those mountains dreary.
Would I were back among the hills,
Could see the heath and scent the gowan,
Would I could hear those sounding rills,
And sit beneath the lonely rowan!
Could see the heath and scent the gowan,
Would I could hear those sounding rills,
And sit beneath the lonely rowan!
But our little flock of sheep are gone,
Like snowy clouds in moonlight flying;
And my mother lies 'neath the churchyard stone,
With long, dry bent-grass round her sighing!
Like snowy clouds in moonlight flying;
And my mother lies 'neath the churchyard stone,
With long, dry bent-grass round her sighing!
| Tales in Verse for Young People | |