Paul Hamilton Hayne (Пол Гамильтон Хейн)

A Mountain Fantasy

CLOSE to each mountain's towering peak
A white cloud leans its tearful cheek,
Till all its soul of mystic pain
Dissolves in slow, soft, vaporous rain.

Thus, when our heart-griefs seek aright
Some heavenly Thought's majestic height,
Their passion, touched by loftier air,
Dissolves in tender mists of prayer!

1. Fate, or God?
2. Aspects of the Pines
3. Now, While the Rear-Guard of the Flying Year
4. The Pine's Mystery
5. Welcome to Winter

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1776

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