I STOOD upon the mountain Before the sun had set, And saw how o'er the forest Hung evening's golden net. Earth was bedewed with slumber, Shed from the clouded sky, And all the bells of even Sang Nature's lullaby. I said -- Oh heart, acknowledge The sleep of earth and air, And with the meadow's children, Rest thou from all thy care. For all the little blossoms Their eyelids gently close, And with a softer motion The streamlet's current flows. And now the sylph, grown weary, Under a leaf doth hide; The dragon-fly, dew-sprinkled, Sleeps at the river-side. Now in his rose-leaf cradle The golden beetle rocks; Back to the fold are hasting The shepherd and his flocks. The lark flies earthward, seeking His clover-shaded nest, And in the wood's recesses Lie hart and doe at rest. And he who has a cottage There to his rest has lain, And he who lives in exile, In dreams goes home again. An eager yearning fills me: In vain I long to climb Up to my own true country By mountain paths of time. |