THERE is a wild sweet valley, hid among the mountains blue, And fairer, brighter vales methinks are "far between and few." 'Tis cradled in the granite arms, and 'neath the Sky serene Of all New England's lovely spots, the loveliest, I ween. When morning looks with dewy gaze from o'er Monadnock's crest On foliage, flowers, and fields beneath, and hills pil'd in the west, And gleams on Whetstone's silver brook, now lost, now seen again, Soft murmuring as it winds adown this wild green Mountain glen, Or when Eve's stellar lamps burn bright in heaven's star-flowered field O'er Hill and Tree and River drak at the base of Chesterfield, Oh! then is wrapt in beauty rare, the sylvan mountain scene The spot of all the Pilgrims' land, where Beauty's home hath been. Oh! if fond nature ever wakes the spirit's thrill of bliss, And stirs within the heart, a thought of gushing happiness, 'Tis when she groups with wayward hand the woodland hill and dale A scene so true, yet romance like, as Brattleboro Vale. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNET by ALICE RUTH MOORE DUNBAR-NELSON TALES OF A WAYSIDE INN: THE THIRD DAY: SCANDERBERG by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW DAFFODILS by LIZETTE WOODWORTH REESE THE BOATMAN by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI ON THE SITE OF A MULBERRY-TREE PLANTED BY SHAKESPEARE ... by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI |