When first I saw ye, Mountains, the broad sun In cloudy grandeur sunk, and showed, far off, A solemn vision of imperfect shapes Crowding the southward sky and stalking on And pointing us "the way that we should go." Dark thunder-mists dwelt on ye; and your forms, Obscurely towering, stood before the eye, Like some strange thing portentous and unknown. I watched the coming storm. The sulphurous gloom Clung sullenly round me, and a dull tinge Began to redden through these mournful shades. A low imperfect murmur o'er ye rolled. Doubtful, I listened. On the breathless calm Again I heard it—then, ye Mountains vast, Amid the tenfold darkness ye withdrew, And vanished quite, save that your high tops smoked, And from your clouds the arrowy lightnings burst, While peals resistless shook the trembling world!— | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BUCOLIC COMEDY: FLEECING TIME by EDITH SITWELL A HYMN FOR PROCESSION WITH CROSS AND BANNERS by SABINE BARING-GOULD THE PILGRIM [SONG], FR. THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS by JOHN BUNYAN A LITTLE CHRISTMAS BASKET by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE SUN'S TRAVELS by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON ON THE TRAIN by RUTH NOEL BENNETT GHELUVELT; EPITAPH ON THE WORCESTERS by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES EPITAPH ON MR. FRANCIS LEE OF THE TEMPLE, GENT. by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |