Page:The poems of Richard Watson Gilder, Gilder, 1908.djvu/247

Rh What time in waves enorm

Breaks the gigantic storm.

The wooded mount doth climb

To a thought intense, sublime.

The glory of all I feel;

But my heart, my heart, will steal

Down the journey of years,

Through the lands of laughter and tears,

Far back to the least of valleys

Where a slow brook curves and dallies,

Where a boy, in the twilight gleam,

Walks alone with his dream.

ON THE BAY

WASHINGTON SQUARE

is the end of the town that I love the best.

O, lovely the hour of light from the burning west—