Page:Poems Dorr.djvu/354

"Why mind the laughter of the town?
It cannot shake my fair renown!
A touch of hardship, now and then,
Will never harm our little men;
And as for this old, crumbling roof,
Let rude winds put it to the proof,
And fierce heats gnaw the hearth-stone! I
Surely the Land of Promise spy,
Where the fair vision of my dreams,
Clothed in transcendent beauty, gleams!
In its white hand it holdeth up
For us, my love, a brimming cup
Where wealth and fame and joy divine
Mingle in life's most sparkling wine.
Bid me God-speed, Hermione,
And kiss me, ere I go from thee!"

So on he sped, from day to day—
Past wheat-fields yellowing in the sun,
Where scarlet-coated poppies run,
Gay soldiers ready for the fray—
Past vineyards purpling on the hills,
Past sleeping lakes and dancing rills,
And homes like dovecotes nestling high
Midway between the earth and sky!
Then on he passed through valleys dim
Crowded with shadows gaunt and grim,
Up towering heights whence glaciers launch
Their swift-winged ships for seaward flight,
Or where, dread messenger of fright,
Sweeps down the awful avalanche!
And still upon the mountain side
To every man he met he cried,
"Where shall I find, oh! tell me where,
The hermit of this upper air,