Mount Rainier
long hours we toiled up through the solemn wood
Beneath moss-banners stretched from tree to tree;
At last upon a barren hill we stood
And, lo, above loomed Majesty!
ALONG SHORE
WHAT wondrous sermons these seas preach to men!...
A Bed of ashes and a half-burned brand
Now mark the spot where last night’s campfire sprung
And licked the dark with slender, scarlet tongue;
The sea draws back from shores of yellow sand,
Nor speaks lest he awake the sleeping land.
Tall trees grow out of...
Fierce burns our fire of driftwood; overhead
Gaunt maples lift arms against the night;
The stars are sobbing,—sorrow-shaken, white,
And high they hang, or show sad eyes grown red
With weeping for their queen,—the moon, just dead.
Black shadows backward...
From this quaint cabin window I can see
The strange, vague line of ghostly drift-wood, though
No ray of silver moon or soft star-glow
Steals through the summer night’s solemnity.
Pale forms drive landward and wild figures flee
Like spectres up the shore; I...
These lands are clothed in burning weather,
These parched lands pant for God’s cool rain;
I look away where strike together
The burnished sky and barren plain.
I look away; no green thing gladdens
My weary eye—no flower, no tree,
Naught...
