Scribner's magazine . sy reaches drawn, And fall of silver rain,Along the call how swift the sunrise streams ! Sound, sound again, O magical refrain !Peal on peal winding through the dewy air,Peal on peal answering far off and on peal bursting in victorious blare ! Sound, sound again. With your delicious pain, O wild sweet haunting the sky swell with hint of heavenly gleamsAnd the heart break with gladness loosed from dreams! What buoyant spirit breathes the breath of mornAnd earths delight. Trumpets, O trumpets blest!Great voices, born Of consecrated gest,Across the ramp
Scribner's magazine . sy reaches drawn, And fall of silver rain,Along the call how swift the sunrise streams ! Sound, sound again, O magical refrain !Peal on peal winding through the dewy air,Peal on peal answering far off and on peal bursting in victorious blare ! Sound, sound again. With your delicious pain, O wild sweet haunting the sky swell with hint of heavenly gleamsAnd the heart break with gladness loosed from dreams! What buoyant spirit breathes the breath of mornAnd earths delight. Trumpets, O trumpets blest!Great voices, born Of consecrated gest,Across the ramparts ring and faint and fail ! O echoes, pressed On some ethereal quest,Touch all the joj^ance to a tearful melancholy gathering oer the blue—Infinite hope, infinite sorrow, too ! And, heard, or guessed, Sweet, sweet, O sweet and best, Falln from some skyey crest,O horns of heaven, give your hero hail,Blown to him from the Kingdom of the Grail! Copyright, 1S94, by Charles Scnbners Sons. All rights By F. Marion Crawford Illustrations hy C. S. Reinhart THE lirst impression made by BarHarbor at the heioht of its seasonupon the mind of one fresh froma more staid and crystalUzed civiliza-tion is that it is passing through a pe-riod of transition, in wliicli tliere is someof the awkwardness which we associatewith rapid growth, and something alsoof the youthful freshness which givesthat very awkwardness a charm. Thename of Mount Desert suggests, per-haps, a grim and forbidding cliff, frown-ing upon tlie pale waves of a melan-choly ocean. Instead, the traveller whocrosses the bay in the level light of anAugust afternoon looks upon the soft,rolling outline of wooded hills, on the highest of which a little hotel breaksthe sky-line, upon a shore along whichvillas and cottages stretch on eitherside of a toy wooden village, which looksas though it were to be put away in abox at night, and upon the surround-ing sea, an almost land-locked inlet, inwhich other islands, li
Size: 1634px × 1528px
Photo credit: © The Reading Room / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1880, bookpublishernewyo, bookyear1887
