450
OBERMANN ONCE MORE.
Still in my soul the voice I heard
Of Obermann! Away
I turned; by some vague impulse stirred,
Along the rocks of Naye,—
Past Sonchaud's piny flanks I gaze,
And the blanched summit bare
Of Malatrait, to where in haze
The Valais opens fair,
And the domed Velan, with his snows,
Behind the upcrowding hills,
Doth all the heavenly opening close
Which the Rhone's murmur fills;
And glorious there, without a sound,
Across the glimmering lake,
High in the Valais-depth profound,
I saw the morning break.
