Page:Poems of nature, Thoreau, 1895.djvu/123

Rh The forest glows as if

An enemy's camp-fires shone

Along the horizon,

Or the day's funeral pyre

Were lighted there;

Edged with silver and with gold,

The clouds hang o'er in damask fold,

And with fresh depth of amber light

The west is dight,

Where still a few rays slant,

That even Heaven seems extravagant.

Watatic Hill

Lies on the horizon's sill

Like a child's toy left overnight,

And other duds to left and right;

On the earth's edge, mountains and trees

Stand as they were on air graven,