Down and Up.
35
DOWN AND UP.
Low in the vale the mists hang cold and gray,
The sparkling, winding river lost to view,
The trees, the oaks and maples that I knew
Shrouded in film of darkness all the day:
Vapors and clouds alone before my eyes,
Where, at the mountain's base, the hamlet lies.
The sparkling, winding river lost to view,
The trees, the oaks and maples that I knew
Shrouded in film of darkness all the day:
Vapors and clouds alone before my eyes,
Where, at the mountain's base, the hamlet lies.
But up, far up, where rises peak on peak,
In solemn grandeur stretching to the sky,
Where tower Franconia's stately summits high,
A glow from Heaven shows to those who seek;
Transfiguring the rugged mountain's height,
Crowning its purpled shades with sunset light.
In solemn grandeur stretching to the sky,
Where tower Franconia's stately summits high,
A glow from Heaven shows to those who seek;
Transfiguring the rugged mountain's height,
Crowning its purpled shades with sunset light.
Down in the dusty street I hear the sound
Of discord, and the tread of tired feet,
Weary and fevered with the pavement's heat,
And all the restless toil that makes life's round:
Like monochrome the outlook, stone on stone,
Vista unvaried, greets the eye alone.
Of discord, and the tread of tired feet,
Weary and fevered with the pavement's heat,
And all the restless toil that makes life's round:
Like monochrome the outlook, stone on stone,
Vista unvaried, greets the eye alone.
