White clouds, whose shadows haunt the deep,
Light mists, whose soft embraces keep
The sunshine on the hills asleep;

O isles of calm, O dark, still wood,

And stiller skies, that overbrood
Your rest with deeper quietude;

O shapes and hues, dim beckoning, through
Yon mountain gaps, my longing view
Beyond the purple and the blue

To stiller sea and greener land,

And softer lights and airs more bland,
And skies the hollow of God's hand;

Transfused through you, O mountain friends,
With mine your solemn spirit blends,
And life no more hath separate ends.

I read each misty mountain sign,
I know the voice of wave and pine,
And I am yours, and ye are mine.

Life's burdens fall, its discords cease;

I lapse into the glad release

Of nature's own exceeding peace.

II. EVENING

Yon mountain's side is black with night;
While, broad-orbed, o'er its gleaming crown

The moon, slow-rounding into sight,

On the hushed inland sea looks down.

How rising moons shine sad and mild
On wooded isle and silvering bay,
Or setting suns beyond the piled

And purple mountains lead the day;

Nor laughing girl, nor bearding boy,

Nor full-pulsed manhood, lingering here,

Shall add to life's abounding joy

The charmed repose to suffering dear:

Still waits kind Nature to impart

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