III.—NIGHT.
The strong uplifter of the wilderness,
Holder of mighty silence voiceful made,
With bird-song drifting from the spruces’ shade,
By quivering winds that murmur in distress,
Proud stands my mountain, clothed with loneliness
That awesome grows when darkness veileth all
And south wind shroudeth with a misty pall
Of hurrying clouds that ever onward press,
As something seeking that doth e’er elude,
Flying like thing pursued that dare not rest,
By some wild, haunting thought of fear possessed——
Not drearness all, the cloud-swept solitude:——
Through changing rifts the starlit blue gives sign
Of mountain nearness unto things divine.