Explore "On the Mountain's Slope" by Helen Hay Whitney on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
High on the mountain's slope I pause and turn -- / Over my head, by the rough crag-points high, / Seems rent and torn the tender hovering sky, / Till almost -- thro' -- I see a Heaven-spark burn; / Then downward to the sleeping world I yearn / Whose eyes so heavy droop they may not try / To catch the higher gleam -- and live thereby -- / Youth passes graveward -- and they never learn.
Then faint with brooding o'er a careless earth / I turn to Nature and her broad warm breast, / Strive for a friendship with her sun-burnt mirth, / Teach my sad soul to catch her cadence deep, / Dream that in her absorbed my heart must rest; / But Nature smiles, and turns once more in sleep.