my mountain.
37
MY MOUNTAIN.
I SHUT my eyes in the snow-fall
And dream a dream of the hills.
The sweep of a host of mountains,
The flash of a hundred rills,
And dream a dream of the hills.
The sweep of a host of mountains,
The flash of a hundred rills,
For a moment they crowd my vision;
Then, moving in troops along,
They leave me one still mountain-picture,
The murmur of one river's song.
Then, moving in troops along,
They leave me one still mountain-picture,
The murmur of one river's song.
'T is the musical Pemigewasset,
That sings to the hemlock trees
Of the pines on the Profile Mountain,
Of the stony Face that sees,
That sings to the hemlock trees
Of the pines on the Profile Mountain,
Of the stony Face that sees,
Far down in the vast rock-hollows
The waterfall of the Flume,
The blithe cascade of the Basin,
And the deep Pool's lonely gloom.
The waterfall of the Flume,
The blithe cascade of the Basin,
And the deep Pool's lonely gloom.
