 | Whittier-land |  |
59
[I heard, methought, a murmur faint,]
“I heard, methought, a murmur faint,
Our River making its complaint;
Complaining in its liquid way,
Thus it said, or seemed to say:
Our River making its complaint;
Complaining in its liquid way,
Thus it said, or seemed to say:
60
“‘What's all this pother on my banks—
Squinting eyes and pacing shanks—
Peeping, running, left and right,
With compass and theodolite?
Squinting eyes and pacing shanks—
Peeping, running, left and right,
With compass and theodolite?
“‘Would they spoil this sacred place?
Blotch with paint its virgin face?
Do they—is it possible—
Do they dream of a hotel?
Blotch with paint its virgin face?
Do they—is it possible—
Do they dream of a hotel?
“‘Match against my moonlight keen
Their tallow dip and kerosene?
Match their low walls, plaster-spread,
With my blue dome overhead?
Their tallow dip and kerosene?
Match their low walls, plaster-spread,
With my blue dome overhead?
“‘Bring their hotel din and smell
Where my sweet winds blow so well,
And my birches dance and swing,
While my pines above them sing?
Where my sweet winds blow so well,
And my birches dance and swing,
While my pines above them sing?
“‘This puny mischief has its day,
But Nature's patient tasks alway
Begin where Art and Fashion stopped,
O'ergrow, and conquer, and adopt.
But Nature's patient tasks alway
Begin where Art and Fashion stopped,
O'ergrow, and conquer, and adopt.
“‘Still far as now my tide shall flow,
While age on age shall come and go,
Nor lack, through all the coming days,
The grateful song of human praise.’”
While age on age shall come and go,
Nor lack, through all the coming days,
The grateful song of human praise.’”
| Whittier-land | |