Comet and Other Verses — The Glen

Here Nature's nice adjusted tool Hath cut a chasm; and each pool Reflects a narrow, rocky room Where sun-born flowers seldom bloom, But where the ledging, level shelves Betray the dance hall of the elves.

And overhead the tasseled trees Frown from the wall, and with each breeze Awake the solemn avenue, But hide from sight the upward view, When with a hundred harps they sing To Boreas their mighty king.

Here Echo dwells in lonely mood, And answers to the dying wood;

Unsuited to a varying rhyme She hath no voice for tuneful Time Content to speak as she hath heard The lyric wind, the singing bird.

Here these same falls awoke the glen Long, long before the march of men;

Long, long before yon broken soil Brought forth the fruit of human toil And here these falls will dance and play When feeling man has passed away.