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my mountain.
Enough, on the brink of the river
Looking up and away, to know
That the Hill loves the Pemigewasset,
And broods o'er its murmurous flow.
Looking up and away, to know
That the Hill loves the Pemigewasset,
And broods o'er its murmurous flow.
Perhaps, if the Campton meadows
Should attract your pilgrim feet
Up the summer road to the mountains,
You may chance my dream to meet:—
Should attract your pilgrim feet
Up the summer road to the mountains,
You may chance my dream to meet:—
Either mine, or one more wondrous.
Or perhaps you will look, and say
You behold only rocks and sunshine,
Be it dying or birth of day.
Or perhaps you will look, and say
You behold only rocks and sunshine,
Be it dying or birth of day.
Though you find but the stones that build it,
I shall see through the snow-fall still,
Hanging over the Pemigewasset,
My glorified, dream-crowned Hill.
I shall see through the snow-fall still,
Hanging over the Pemigewasset,
My glorified, dream-crowned Hill.
