RANGING the heights of Scawfell or Blackcomb, In his lone course the Shepherd oft will pause, And strive to fathom the mysterious laws By which the clouds, arrayed in light or gloom, On Mona settle, and the shapes assume Of all her peaks and ridges. What he draws From sense, faith, reason, fancy, of the cause, He will take with him to the silent tomb. Or, by his fire, a child upon his knee, Haply the untaught Philosopher may speak Of the strange sight, nor hide his theory That satisfies the simple and the meek, Blest in their pious ignorance, though weak To cope with Sages undevoutly free. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE RIGHT TO GRIEF by CARL SANDBURG OVER THE HILL TO THE POOR-HOUSE by WILLIAM MCKENDREE CARLETON A DREAM OF DEATH by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS EPIGRAM by DECIMUS MAGNUS AUSONIUS THE LAST LULLABY by HENRY BATAILLE |