MOUNTAIN LYRIC.
17
"O father, leave your earth!"
Floating fair into sunny sky,
Evanishing away,
Praying the pine-veiled heights to fly,
Dark furrowed heights of grey;
"Away! away!"
"Our roots are deep, we may not die,"
Stern crags responded wearily;
Fly thou away,
O child of day!
The hallowing of thy sunny smile,
Thy fingers of cool mist,
Soothed my weary soul erewhile,
And since thy lips have kissed,
Lightning, blast, nor lashing rain,
Snows, nor howling hurricane
Mar my deep rest,
Remembering thy heavenly smile;
Fade thou away!
And leave me grey!"
