University of Virginia Library


80

MORNAY

The valley broadens to the sea;
Far up the whispering sand is blown
With mild resistless energy,
To make a desert of its own.
Sunk in the huge hill's massive fold,
Where moor with pasture softly blends,
The long house peers with all its old
Grey chimney-stacks and gable ends.
The stunted wood that seaward lies
Sprawls her mossed boughs along the breeze,
The bitter breeze, that shrieking flies
From league on league of plunging seas.

81

The high piled rocks, the oozing stream,
The rusty fern, the frozen mere,
I know them not, and yet they seem
So old, so infinitely dear.
And yet the love, the wistful pain
That thrills me, find no answer there;
Stern Nature seeks no praise, no gain,
Securely, indolently fair.
If I transgress her trivial sway,
She blames not, only thrusts me down,
As frost and sunshine rend away
The rocks that o'er the valley frown.
‘Nay, strive not, murmur not,’ she cries,
‘Some day unnoted thou shalt be,
Or whirled aloft the blustering skies,
Or mingled with the monstrous sea;

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‘I know not what these fancies are,
This hungry hope for peace and love;
My hands are spread from star to star,
But there are depths beyond, above.’