Page:Pocahontas, and Other Poems.djvu/160

 144 SUNSET ON THE ALLEGHANY.

While race on race, their little round shall mark, And slumber in the tomb. Still point to all, Who through this evening scene may wander on, And from yon mountain's cold magnificence Turn to thy milder beauty, point to all, The eternal love that nightly sends thee forth, A silent teacher of its boundless lore.

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