 | Poems of home and travel |  |
218
THE MOUNTAINS.
O deep, exulting freedom of the hills!O summits vast, that to the climbing view
In naked glory stand against the blue!
O cold and buoyant air, whose crystal fills
Heaven's amethystine bowl! O speeding streams,
That foam and thunder from the cliffs below!
O slippery brinks and solitudes of snow,
And granite bleakness, where the vulture screams!
O stormy pines, that wrestle with the breath
Of every tempest, sharp and icy horns,
And hoary glaciers, sparkling in the morns,
And broad, dim wonders of the world beneath!
I summon ye, and 'mid the glare which fills
The noisy mart, my spirit walks the hills.
| Poems of home and travel | |