. Songs without music, rhymes and recitations. he small weeds that lift their thankful flowersTo drink the blessing ? o Image of intellectual power, the gloiyOf Mans endeavour. MOUNTAINS. 185 In your great solitudes, O Mountains hoary,Are ye for ever ! Breathing an atmosphere of rarer essence, The ages show the shadow of their mighty presence On all below them. And in those heights where soars the eagle only, From our eyes clouded,The pride of human intellect dwells lonely, With mists enshrouded. Striving to reach that yet unfathomed power, Insight not given—What fuller knowledge
. Songs without music, rhymes and recitations. he small weeds that lift their thankful flowersTo drink the blessing ? o Image of intellectual power, the gloiyOf Mans endeavour. MOUNTAINS. 185 In your great solitudes, O Mountains hoary,Are ye for ever ! Breathing an atmosphere of rarer essence, The ages show the shadow of their mighty presence On all below them. And in those heights where soars the eagle only, From our eyes clouded,The pride of human intellect dwells lonely, With mists enshrouded. Striving to reach that yet unfathomed power, Insight not given—What fuller knowledge than the humblest flower Has it of Heaven ? Of that great Love per\ading all creation, Uncomprehended ?The subtle problem of our destination. When life is ended ? Knowledge of Power and Glory never ending To whom is given ?Are not the heights and depths of understanding Herein made even ? i86 MOUNTAINS. The lessons, these, O Mountains, that ye teach, If men receive them ;The loftiest human intellect cannot reach,— The low—believe them !. i87 THE RIVER OF MY DREAM. METHOUGHT I stood beside a citys River,That like an arrow through its bosom shot^Black with the poisoned tide of sins for ever,Salt with the tears of sorrow long forgot. What human burthens underneath lay buried ? I watched the crowd of swimmers strugglingthere ;And while the dark Stream never stayed nor hurried, It closed each instant oer some life-despair. Silently closed ;—but ere the circling eddyHad widened full its rings, to fill the place, Another form was striking out already, Till the Stream clasped him in its black embrace. And prayers, and curses, and a wail for ever,Swept, like a wind, beneath the arches dim ; Souls battling on, each with his small to the separate goal foredoomed for him 1 All men,—all ages,—young and very sad, the wicked, and the innocent. i88 THE RIVER OF MY DREAM. i)ome sank beneath their cherished weight of gold,Some neath a weight of human learning b
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