Then still and tranquil grew the autumn days;
Through hazy veils the trees began to blaze;
The mountain summits seemed to sleep and dream;
Of tawny richness was each lessened stream;
Transparent amber on the birches crept;
Orange and madder o'er the dwarf oaks swept:
Upon the maples, in ravine or dell,
A myriad shades of rose-carnation fell;
The aspen groves, a wonder to behold,
Strewed the dark rocks with leaves of paly gold;
Wherever bunch of height—fond foliage grew,
Each frosty night had set some splendid hue,
And far above, beyond the somber pines,
The wasted snow yet gleamed in argent lines;
On every slope and steep, afar and near,
A seal was set that marked a dying year;
The mountains glowed in endless, gorgeous dyes,
With pomp of woods and glory of the skies.
PART THIRD.
VIII.
The hollow huge, where lay the dark lake cold,
Had once been, so my observations told,
The head of a great glacier thick and vast,
Whose icy masses, in the years long past,
Had with its motion, ponderous and slow,
Ploughed out the narrow canon far below,
And as it downward moved with growl upon,
Smoothed the long granite ledges 'till they shone.
No doubt the causeway, half the canon's length,
Was by the monster piled up in his strength;
His bristling front and ice-caves rested there,
Ere he retreated to that upper lair.
Now the wild hollow sees tremendous slides,
That often fall concurrent from its sides.
With force resistless and with thunders loud
They beat the lake into a misty cloud,
Or out of their deep bed the waters sweep,
To pass in hissing floods adown the steep.
Thus once had Jo and I beheld them fall,
A sight and sound the stoutest to appal.
'Twas more than once there came to me a thought,
Why tempt adversity more than one ought?
Our cabin—did it stand in place quite safe,
Would Providence our welfare still vouchsafe?
The cabin stood on a low ridge or mound
That heretofore the slides had passed around.
So I believed that they would do once more—
I did not see the shadow at our door—
And then—the time was brief we had to stay,
We thought that quick—and it would pass away.
Procrastination—'tis the miner's bane!
To wait, put off, to loiter, he is fain;
He stubborn is and, whether right or wrong,
Keeps to his moods and faces odds too long;
Oh! only beck and voice of Chance he heeds,
And follows blind and deaf where'er she leads.
The golden autumn days had sudden end,
And darkly wild we saw the storms extend;
With chilly notes November's wind piped loud,
Along the mountain side the tall pines bowed;
From out ravine and glen and bushy aisles,
The crisped leaves were heaped in russet piles;
Or without moment's pause or respite given
Were in the pale, swol'n torrents fiercely driven.
Then came the masses of dull, leaden cloud,
That like gray specters did each other crowd;
Cold drenching rains fell in the vales below,
But on the mountains changed to heavy snow.
With winding sheet it did all things efface;
The heights above "Our Home" grew white apace:
On earth was whiteness, on the sky was frown;
By day and night the flakes were wafted down;
Swirled round and round and wildly drifted o'er
Until it seemed the steeps could bear no more,
And in vast combs, along the winding wall,
The avalanche hung poised for instant fall!