Poems (Sharpless)/Morning Among the Hills
MORNING AMONG THE HILLS
Surely in some new world I float! Some fresh young world unstained by woe:Where, drifting in my tiny boat The light waves rock me to and fro.
The hemlock branches thrill and stir 'Neath the sweet witchery of the morn;And from yon sombre woods of fir Balsamic incense breaths are borne.
Above yon cataract that gleams A floating ribbon thro' the green,A slender torch of white mist seems To lighten all the dark ravine,
On this fair lake without a name While thought and sorrow stand at bay,I watch unfold in radiant flame The splendid blossom of the day.
Here is a service filled with praise: Untouched by selfish needs or care;My trembling soul her song may raise, Feeling her God so very near.
Bathed in the glory and the light She heeds no longer, time or space,But fain would spread her wings for flight To meet her Maker face to face.
One passionate adoring prayer Unknown to speech;—while slowly dieIn the familiar daylight clear The wondrous splendors of the sky.
To camp I urge my boat again With longing and reluctant sighs;—Yet bear back to the world of men This passing glimpse of Paradise.