Page:The Granite Monthly Volume 5.djvu/206

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Greenly all my fields are growing, and my silvery streams are flowing
 * Down the daisy-dimpled meadows, through ray valleys to the sea.

All my woods are green and tender, glowing in the sun-light's splendor.
 * While the breeze-inviting shadows underlie each shrub and tree.

To the northward, crowned in glory, stand ray mountains, grim and hoary,
 * Granite-ribbed and granite-crested, with their foreheads to the sky.

Where the forests dark are leaning o'er the valleys intervening,
 * Sylvan lakes, all silver-breasted, mirror-like in beauty lie.

On my slopes to southward leading, fearlessly the flocks are feeding,
 * And beneath ray lowland willows quiet reigneth evermore,

While with never-ceasing motion the old mystery-loving ocean
 * Rolls his anthem-bearing billows on my echo-haunted shore.

There are pleasant, sheltered places hidden 'mid my mountain mazes;
 * There are bold and craggy ledges, where the eagle rests her wing;

There are cascades loudly brawling and deep rivers hoarsely falling;
 * There are darkly-shaded hedges where the timid thrushes sing.

Steamers on my lakes are sailing, with their cloud-vails backward trailing,
 * In and out between my islands, green as those of fairy tales;

While the rail-cars, onward steaming, find an echo to their screaming
 * In the hamlets on my highlands and the cities in my vales.