Page:Poems Dorr.djvu/410

    The wild bee's hum,
    The lone bird's drum,
O'er the wide pastures faintly come;
    And soft and clear
    Falls on my ear
The cow-bell's tinkle, far and near!

    Before my eyes
    Three blue peaks rise,
Piercing the bright autumnal skies;
    Silent and grand,
    On either hand,
Far mountain heights majestic stand.

    By wreaths of mist
    The vales are kissed—
Fair, floating clouds of amethyst,
    That follow on,
    Through shade and sun,
Where'er the river's course may run.

    Here, looking down
    On roof-trees brown,
I catch fair glimpses of the town.
    There, far away,
    The shadows play
On crags and bowlders, huge and gray.

    All whispering low,
    The breezes go—
The wandering birds flit to and fro
    Winged motes float by
    Me as I lie,
And yellow leaves drop silently.