Wistful, longing, through the green Beauty more than mortal shines. Fringed with gold their mantles flow On the slopes of westering knolls; In the wind they whisper low Of the Sunset Land of Souls. Doubt who may, O friend of mine! On before with beck and sign More than clouds of purple trail Glimpses of immortal youth, Gleams and glories seen and flown, Far-heard voices sweet with truth, Airs from viewless Eden blown, — Beauty that eludes our grasp, Sweetness that transcends our taste, Loving hands we may not clasp, Gentle eyes we closed below, On and onward, still before. Guided thus, O friend of mine! Chase we still, with baffled feet, Whittier. A child 'midst ancient mountains I have stood . All along the valley, stream that flashest white And then I look'd up toward a mountain-track A sad man on a summer day A single step, that freed me from the skirts A sound of many waters! - now I know Beckon us upward, ever-soaring clouds. Beyond the grizzly cliffs which guard Beyond the hills where suns go down Brutes graze the mountain-top, with faces prone Clear, placid Leman! thy contrasted lake Come down, O maid, from yonder mountain height Come ye into the summer woods Comes something down with eventide Deep set in distant seas it lies 252 ΠΙΟ 181 199 172 210 181 82 243 250 259 Far up on Katahdin thou towerest Five years have past; five summers, with the length Flow down, cold rivulet, to the sea For the growing youth For the wealth of pathless forests From Stirling Castle we had seen Full many a glorious morning have I seen - Hast thou a charm to stay the morning star He who, by wilful disesteem of life Hollo, my Fancy! Thou art free Hushed with broad sunlight lies the hill I came to my country, but not with the hope I could not, ever and anon, forbear I looked upon a plain of green I missed the mountain I had loved In a valley, centuries ago In the pleasant orchard closes. In the wood where shadows are deepest Is this a time to be cloudy and sad?. I stood upon the hills, when heaven's wide arch I think we are too ready with complaint It is an isle under Ionian skies It mounts athwart the windy hill Last eve, I rode over the mountains IIO 28 254 Laugh of the mountain! - lyre of bird and tree! Let us go, lassie, go Listen, listen, Mary mine. Long I followed happy guides Look at them, stranger! these dim, hideous cliffs 'Mid the mountains Euganean My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here O, it is pleasant with a heart at ease. O love, what hours were thine and mine O Mountain Stream! the Shepherd and his cot O my heart, my heart is sick awishing and awaiting One summer morning we had walked abroad On Zurich's spires with rosy light O, somewhere in the living realms that lie O Stream descending to the sea O, sweet it was, when, from that bleak abode Out in the golden summer air O wonderful mountain of Blaavin Proud were ye, Mountains, when, in times of old Read me a lesson, Muse, and speak it loud |