Poems (Larcom)/The Distant Mountain-Range
THE DISTANT MOUNTAIN-RANGE.
THEY beckon from their sunset domes afar, Light's royal priesthood, the eternal hills: Though born of earth, robed of the sky they are; And the anointing radiance heaven distils On their high brows, the air with glory fills. The portals of the west are opened wide; And lifted up, absolved from earthly ills, All thoughts, a reverent throng, to worship glide. The hills interpret heavenly mysteries, The mysteries of Light,—an open book Of Revelation: see, its leaves unfold With crimson borderings, and lines of gold! Where the rapt reader, though soul-deep his look, Dreams of a glory deeper than he sees.