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a web of many textures

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Page 353



The Queen of Sheba said of Israel's glory,
When Solomon his wisdom did unfold her,
That far inadequate was every story,
And not one half the truth had e'er been told her.
And here, Mount Washington above me rising,
I feel myself in that same situation,
For not tithe of all its wealth surprising
Hath pen or tongue made fitting revelation.
O, beautiful and grand the gross amount
Of mountain scene, from which there 's no discounting;
Where Nature figures in a wild account, —
Like compound interest, evermore a “mounting.”
I watch the flitting shadows yonder dancing
Like sportive elves among the granite boulders;
Anon I see the cheerful sunshine glancing
Like epaulets on Washington's broad shoulders.
Around the awful peak now vapors gather,
And darkly-lowering clouds the valleys threaten;
There 's no postponement on account of weather,
Or compromising to defer the wettin'.
The lavish rain outpours, — I hear iti rushing
Far o'er the forest, on its work baptismal;
A holy wet from primal fountains gushing,
That gives the heart no contemplation dismal.
'Tis past, — the birds, their cheerful song renewing,
Pour forth their lays in grateful adoration;
The rivulet, its pleasant way pursuing,
Joins its glad note in musical oblation.
The self-same song comes from yon sylvan bowers,
In notes as wild, as sweet, and as sonorous,
As when, in Nature's first awakening hours,
The glad creation sang Time's opening chorus.


Page 354
How green and bright the garniture appears
Which Nature throws about those kingly bases!
Its fashion changeless in the lapse of years, —
Perfection found in its primeval graces.
But here to stand and view it I 'm contented, —
Though others soar, it is not my ambition;
I am not sad that I have been prevented,
For those who 've soared are sorer in condition.