The homes of the Hauenstein peasant;
Their straw-thatched roofs with mosses still green,
But no more quaint costumes at present.
Through gaps in the forest I see shining bright
The snow-peaks of Switzerland's Giants,
The steep Finsteraarhorn's towering height
The Jungfrau dazzling with diamonds;
And as to the west I turn my gaze,
Blue ridge above ridge is unfolding:
And, in the evening's golden haze,