And not the least of all these maladies,
But in one minute's sight brings beauty under—
As mountain snow melts with the mid-day sun."
———
"Lo! here the gentle lark, weary of rest,
From his moist cabinet mounts up on high,
And wakes the morning, from whose silver breast
The sun ariseth in his majesty;
Who doth the world so gloriously behold,
That cedar tops and hills seem burnish'd gold.