. Bryant. Poems from the works of William Cullen Bryant. Alice.—A mountain-side, you said;the Alps, perhaps,Or our own Alleghanies. Uncle John.— Not so fast, My young geographer, for then the Alps,With their broad pastures, haply were untrod 64 BRYANT. Of herdsmans foot, and never human (>ur Alleghanys streams. I think itvoice was Had sounded in the woods that over-hang Upon the slopes of the great Caucasus,Or where the rivulets of Ararat. Seek the Armenian vales. Thatmountain rose So high, that, on its top, the winter-snow Was never melted, and the cottagers Among the summer-blossoms, far
. Bryant. Poems from the works of William Cullen Bryant. Alice.—A mountain-side, you said;the Alps, perhaps,Or our own Alleghanies. Uncle John.— Not so fast, My young geographer, for then the Alps,With their broad pastures, haply were untrod 64 BRYANT. Of herdsmans foot, and never human (>ur Alleghanys streams. I think itvoice was Had sounded in the woods that over-hang Upon the slopes of the great Caucasus,Or where the rivulets of Ararat. Seek the Armenian vales. Thatmountain rose So high, that, on its top, the winter-snow Was never melted, and the cottagers Among the summer-blossoms, far be-low, Saw its white peaks in August fromtheir little maiden, in that cottage-home, Dwelt with her parents, light of heartand limb, Bright, restless, thoughtless, flittinghere and there, Like sunshine on the uneasy ocean-waves, And sometimes she forgot what shewas bid, As Alice — Or Willy, quite as John.—But you are older,Alice, two good years, And should be wiser. Eva was thename Of this young maiden, now twelvesummers old. Now you must know that, in those early times,When autumn days grew pale, there came a troopOf childlike forms from that cold mountain-top;With trailing garments through the air they came,Or walked the ground with girded loins, and threwSpangles of silvery frost upon the grass,And edged the brooks with glistening parapets,And built it crystal bridges, touched the pool,And turned i
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