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190
A Day at Thusis.
O'er gorges where the glacier-torrents swell,Past the high castle, where on burning wing
A thousand butterflies are quivering
'Mid feathery pink and slender asphodel,
And in the sunshine on the slanting fell
A thousand grasshoppers are chirrupping,
We sought the lone Alp whose cool grasses spring
For summer kine that browse with musical bell.
O vastness of the sunny depths of air!
O freedom of the mountain winds that blow!
O splendour of the snowy ranges fair!
As round me in a tide of joy ye flow,
Ye bid strange yearnings in the spirit rise—
Strange yearnings which perchance are prophecies.
(1885.)
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