Sought my closed eyes and ope’d them to the morn.
Then like the passing shadow of a cloud
Revealed the world beneath the lifted shroud,
The glories of the proud Sandia Range,
Whose rugged grandeur God alone can change.
Sweet was the air that in my casement swept,
And in the court below a fountain leap’t,
Which on the harp of life sweet music made,
And soothed me in my slumbers as it played.
The songs of gentle rain, of woodland stream,