And once we built our fortress where you see Yon group of spruce-trees sidewise on the line Where the horizon to the eastward bounds,- A point selected by sagacious art, Where all at once we viewed the Vermont hills, And the long outlines of the mountain-ridge, Ever renewing, changeful every hour; And, sunk below us in that lowland world, The lone Farm-steading where the bleaching cloth, Small spot of white, lay out upon the lawn; Behind, smooth walls of rock, and trees each side, Sifting the blast two ways; and on the south Our wigwam opened, showing in its length That flattened hay-stack or repeated hill,- Wachusett! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NIGHTS WITHOUT SLEEP by SARA TEASDALE AN ENGLISH MOTHER by ROBERT UNDERWOOD JOHNSON AN ORCHARD AT AVIGNON by AGNES MARY F. ROBINSON THE CARD-DEALER by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI NOCTURNE IN A DESERTED BRICKYARD by CARL SANDBURG COLIN AND LUCY by THOMAS TICKELL |