Page:Negro poets and their poems (IA negropoetstheirp00kerl).pdf/233

Rh It was a valley of treasures that everywhere abounded. He opened his eyes, and beheld the greensward bedecked with many colored jewels that sparkled in the light. His ears caught the medley of sounds, that awoke innumerable echoes; and with the balmy air peopled the valley with delights. How he came there, or why, he knew not; nor scarcely thought or cared. As he gazed upon the multitude of things, in his heart upsprung desire; and he gathered the treasures that lay around, till his arms were full, and his body decked in all their bright array. Then the sun went down behind the hill; and the vale grew dark; and the night air chill; and the place grew solemn, silent, still. A new thing then, to mortal ken, seemed hovering on the threshold near. A strange, fantastic thing, it crept, intangible, nearer, nearer swept, the pallid, startling face of Fear! But, the night brings sleep at last—and dreams; and day follows night; and sunshine follows storm throughout the length of days. But a trace of the dreams remains, like the faintly clinging scent that marks a hidden trail; and so, because of his dreams, the man’s desire reached out, and scaled the lofty peaks that walled him in. His pleasant valley seemed too narrow and confined.