MONADNOC.
97
Graced by each change of sum untold,
Earth-baking heat, stone-cleaving cold.
The Titan heeds his own affairs,
Wide rents and high alliance shares;
Mysteries of color daily laid
By the great sun in light and shade;
And sweet varieties of chance
And the mystic seasons' dance;
And thief-like step of liberal hours
Thawing snow-drift into flowers.
O, wondrous craft of plant and stone
By eldest science done and shown!
'Happy,' I said, 'whose home is here!
Fair fortunes to the mountaineer!
Boon Nature to his poorest shed
Has royal pleasure-grounds outspread.'
Intent, I searched the region round,
And in low hut my monarch found
He was no eagle, and no earl;—
Alas! my foundling was a churl,
