ON MOUNTAIN HEIGHTS. (1904.)- Eliza A. Otis ...

Los picos de Europa Image Credit


0 mountains! 'mid your solemn silences,
With my heart filled with thoughtful reveries,
I love to wander, for ye speak to me,
And tell of power and awful majesty.

And then again like the dumb Sphynx ye rise,
Silent with all your hidden mysteries.
Ye know the past, but still ye will not tell
A word of its great history. Breezes swell
'Mid leaf-tongued trees that skirt thy canon's walls,

Answering to music of thy waterfalls.
Man dwells not here amid your lofty heights
That stand alone with God, watching the flight
Of Time, catching the music of the spheres,
Watching the sunrise as the Morning nears,
Beholding generations as they come and go,
E'en like a tidal wave's great overflow.

O God is here! So still, so calm, so high,
Ye are His temple, rising to the sky.
Above the world of sin, the world of care,
Your pillared domes do rest in upper air.
The fret and care of life is far away,
And here we hear God's great wind-organ play.

The waterfalls do thunder of His power,
The sunbeams sing of love, and fill each hour
With beauty. No sound of traffic's din we hear.
Peace, peace is round us, and we feel God near.