A morn in Oregon! The kindled camp Upon the mountain brow that broke below In steep and grassy stairway to the damp And dewy valley, snapp'd and flamed aglow With knots of pine. Above, the peaks of snow, With under-belts of sable forest, rose And flash'd in sudden sunlight. To and fro And far below, in lines and winding rows, The herders drove their bands, and broke the deep repose. I heard their shouts like sounding hunter's horn, The lowing herds made echoes far away; When lo! the clouds came driving in with morn Toward the sea, as fleeing from the day. The valleys fill'd with curly clouds. They lay Below, a levell'd sea that reach'd and roll'd And broke like breakers of a stormy bay Against the grassy shingle fold on fold, So like some splendid ocean, snowy white and cold. The peopled valley lay a hidden world, The shouts were shouts of drowning men that died, The broken clouds along the border curl'd, And bent the grass with weighty freight of tide. A savage stood in silence at my side, Then sudden threw aback his beaded strouds And stretch'd his hand above the scene, and cried, As all the land lay dead in snowy shrouds: "Behold! the sun bathes in a silver sea of clouds." Here lifts the land of clouds! Fierce mountain forms, Made white with everlasting snows, look down Through mists of many canons, mighty storms That stretch from Autumn's purple, drench and drown The yellow hem of Spring. Tall cedars frown Dark-brow'd, through banner'd clouds that stretch and stream Above the sea from snowy mountain crown. The heavens roll, and all things drift or seem To drift about and drive like some majestic dream. In waning Autumn time, when purpled skies Begin to haze in indolence below The snowy peaks, you see black forms arise, In rolling thunder banks above, and throw Quick barricades about the gleaming snow. The strife begins! The battling seasons stand Broad breast to breast. A flash! Contentions grow Terrific. Thunders crash, and lightnings brand The battlements. The clouds possess the conquered land. Then, clouds blow by, the swans take loftier flight, The yellow blooms burst out upon the hill, The purple camas comes as in a night, Tall spiked and dripping of the dews that fill The misty valley. Sunbeams break and spill Their glory till the vale is full of noon. Then roses belt the streams, no bird is still. The stars, as large as lilies, meet the moon And sing of summer, born thus sudden full and soon. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SEMANTICS OF FLOWERS ON MEMORIAL DAY by BOB HICOK VARIATIONS FOR A SUMMER EVENING by MICHAEL ANANIA A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 26 by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN TO THE MEMORY OF MY BELOVED MASTER WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE by BEN JONSON THE CROPPY BOY: (A BALLAD OF '98) by WILLIAM B. MCBURNEY |