Poem by Harriet Monroe

The Blue Ridge

STILL and calm,
In purple robes of kings,
The low-lying mountains sleep at the edge of the world.
The forests cover them like mantles;
Day and night
Rise and fall over them like the wash of waves.

Asleep, they reign.
Silent, they say all.
Hush me, O slumbering mountains —
Send me dreams.

1. A Letter from Peking
2. Lullaby
3. With a Copy of Shelley
4. The Garden
5. A Portrait

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