Mountain Lyric.
A mountain spake to a sunny cloud,
"Whither, my child, away?"
"Father, the winds are calling loud
To fields of air for play!
Away! away!
Father, O father, solemn-browed!
Fly thou with me for play!"
Nestled half in a sunny snow,
And half in azure air,
The cloudlet, pausing, loth to go
And leave the mountain bare,
With hazy hair,
And misty feet in a sunny snow,
May not linger there;
Lithely curled in a merry breeze,
With look still turned to earth,
Wafted on viewless presences
From the mystic mount of birth,
With a merry mirth,
Summoning fondly as he flees,
