Poems (Hinchman)/When from the glory of the lonely fields
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IX
When from the glory of the lonely fields
And the great solitudes of mountain heights,
Where every promontory grandeur yields
And moon and stars lend us their splendid lights;
Where branched trees are peace, and flowers are smiles,
Where the great sun soothes with a kindly kiss
The sharp hurt of the wind; when in short whiles
I leave, alas, all this dear summer's bliss,
Then must I, in the turmoil and the roar
Of life's full tide, breast the great city's surge;
Longing for all that I had lately more,
The peace and warmth fresh memory doth urge:
Yet haply there some peace and joy I'll find
Crown'd and enthron'd in nobleness of mind.
And the great solitudes of mountain heights,
Where every promontory grandeur yields
And moon and stars lend us their splendid lights;
Where branched trees are peace, and flowers are smiles,
Where the great sun soothes with a kindly kiss
The sharp hurt of the wind; when in short whiles
I leave, alas, all this dear summer's bliss,
Then must I, in the turmoil and the roar
Of life's full tide, breast the great city's surge;
Longing for all that I had lately more,
The peace and warmth fresh memory doth urge:
Yet haply there some peace and joy I'll find
Crown'd and enthron'd in nobleness of mind.