Classic and Contemporary Poetry
SUNRISE ON THE CUMBERLANDS, by EFFIE WALLER SMITH Poet's Biography First Line: The chimney rocks are huge chimney Last Line: We had in getting there. Subject(s): Cumberland Mountains; Dawn; Sunrise | ||||||||
The Chimney Rocks are huge chimney shaped rocks from which a vapor resembling smoke continually rises. We sat upon the Chimney Rocks O'ergrown with lichens gray, Waiting for the sunlight warm To clear the mist away. The Chimney Rocks crown a peak Of Cumberland mountain which O'erlooks the Sandy river In picturesqueness rich. Skyward in rugged bold relief Without a bush or tree To make their prominence less marked They tower in majesty. Wet were our garments with the dew, Tired were our feet and sore; For we had climbed a good long mile Of stony path before We reached those rocks whereon our guide Time and again had been With others ere us to see the sun His daily course begin. He (our guide) had said to us In rustic language: "You Of sunrise from the Chimney Rocks Will get a lovely view." I would that you had been with us On dear old Cumberland; Have sat with us upon those rocks And have seen that sunrise grand. The sunbeams kissed the mountain tops; The mist was cleared away; The eastern sky was streaked and splatched With colors bright and gay. While we bared our heads to gaze On distant suntipped peaks The scented morning zephyrs fanned Our hot and flushing cheeks. And, I doubt not the self same thoughts Were pondered in each mind, As we looked down the rocky slope Which we had lately climbed With toilsome steps to reach those rocks Where we could see the sun Appear in glorious splendor Above the horizon. Though toilsome was the walk it seemed As nothing since our eyes With pleasant joy had feasted on That glorious sunrise. Sometimes the pathway which He bids Us walk in here below Is often stony, and ofttimes Beside it thistles grow. Sometimes the misty clouds o'er hang Our stony pathway hard; Sometimes we almost starve for rest We get so very tired! But then above the gloomy clouds There's sunshine, and we know We'll reach a place not strewn with stones Where thistles do not grow. And when we reach that upper land So bright, so pure and fair Forgotten will the hardships be We had in getting there. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THIS MORNING, GOD by LAURE-ANNE BOSSELAAR BURNING DAWN by HAYDEN CARRUTH DAWN by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON IN THE GARDEN AT THE DAWN HOUR by EDGAR LEE MASTERS EARLY RISER by NAOMI SHIHAB NYE WORDS WHEN WE NEED THEM by NAOMI SHIHAB NYE A GOOD-BYE by EFFIE WALLER SMITH |
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