THE PICTURED ROCKS.[14]
Earth hath her wondrous scenes—but few like this.
Lo! how yon cliffs do spurn the swelling deep,
Lifting their huge bare walls to middle heaven,
As if they sought to reach it! On their front,
Vast and unbroken, hangs no jutting crag
Which beetling might arrest the weary eye,
Or give a shelter to the shrieking bird
That sought a resting place. The short gray moss
Grows in their crevices—and here and there