THE GLACIER
Softly sliding, slipping slowly down,
Each moment farther from the mountain's crown
The glacier comes;—and so the human will
That retrogrades, each hour gets lower still,
Until at last, beside the mountain's base
We scarce can recognize the old-time face.
Each moment farther from the mountain's crown
The glacier comes;—and so the human will
That retrogrades, each hour gets lower still,
Until at last, beside the mountain's base
We scarce can recognize the old-time face.
ELEGY AT THE BIRTHPLACE OF BRYANT
Like pilgrims to the shrine we climbed the hill
To view the spot where Nature's bard was born,
To get perhaps a momentary thrill
From "classic ground," or from the summer morn.
To view the spot where Nature's bard was born,
To get perhaps a momentary thrill
From "classic ground," or from the summer morn.
It was the month when earth and heaven vie,
Of balmy air, and tender bursting buds,
Above the deep cerulean of the sky,
Below, the verdure of the fields and woods.
Of balmy air, and tender bursting buds,
Above the deep cerulean of the sky,
Below, the verdure of the fields and woods.
We heard the south wind stir the half-grown corn,
The babbling of a brooklet fleeing fast;
And low of kine upon the breezes borne,
And song of birds, that caroled as we passed;
The babbling of a brooklet fleeing fast;
And low of kine upon the breezes borne,
And song of birds, that caroled as we passed;
We saw the vastness of the cloudless dome,
The endless beauty of the verdant earth;
And on a distant hill, the summer home,
And at our feet, the scene of Bryant's birth.
The endless beauty of the verdant earth;
And on a distant hill, the summer home,
And at our feet, the scene of Bryant's birth.
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