Classic and Contemporary Poetry
SUNDAY ON MOUNT HOLYOKE, by JAMES FREEMAN COLMAN First Line: I've climbed, with slippery, toiling feet Last Line: Seemeth more near to god. Subject(s): Mount Holyoke, Massachusetts | ||||||||
I'VE climbed, with slippery, toiling feet, The cliff, beneath whose verge, Far down, wide-waving woodlands beat Their greenly rippling surge. With rustling skirts the zephyr treads The undulating trees, And azure harebells nod their heads, Rung by the passing breeze. Mid fields of variegated grain The river lies asleep, While the stern mountains to the plain With softened outline sweep. And, hand in hand, around the vale, Clad in blue autumn-mist, They stand, that naught the spot assail The loving sun hath kissed. On the green hillside lowing kine Are heard, and bleating flocks, And, where the farmyard roofings shine, The shrilly crowing cocks. But naught of sight or sound doth mar The holy Sabbath-time, Where the white belfry gleams afar Whispers the village-chime. Like a fond mother's kiss, the scene Soothes the unrestful brain; Earth's love, so smilingly serene, Wins the sick soul from pain. Here are no traces to record Man's crimes or his distress; The brooding spirit looks abroad In happy loneliness. How spiritual seems the place! The blue, unclouded skies Look down, as when a thoughtful face To yearning dreams replies. 'T is well to kneel in pillared aisle, And swell prayer's choral tone; But holiest feelings crave awhile To find themselves alone. And as the landscape, viewed from hence, Dwindles in sight and sound, While heaven, in still magnificence, Spreads broader arms around; So, from this lofty mountain-goal To which my feet have trod, Life's objects lessen, -- and the soul Seemeth more near to God. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE THANKSGIVING IN BOSTON HARBOR [JUNE 12, 1630] by HEZEKIAH BUTTERWORTH TACKING SHIP OFF SHORE by WALTER MITCHELL THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 86. LOST DAYS by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI THE RAINBOW [IN THE SKY] by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH A PARTING SONG by WILLIAM AITKEN A GIFT OF SPRING by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) |
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