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lets That o'erhang the high canyons, Passing where the shepherds And the flocks they pipe to lag. I'm tramping thro the mountains Where the pines in proud procession Climb like a hardy host To halo-heights of sun. I'm listening for the sallies Of the avalanche's Hessian Hurl of ice and granite Into gulfs Avernian. I'm tramping thro the mountains And the wind is yodling to me Yearnings of the glaciers To flow to summer lands. I'm treading up the valleys With no wanting to undo me-- For to-day I'm goalless And the great God understands! THE MAN OF MIGHT No moment drooped between his thought and action, No morrow died between his dream and deed. Within his soul there was no fatal faction That could betray him in his hour of need. IN TIME OF AWE The fierce sea-sunset over the world Springs like a wounded spirit, The waves all day have hissed and hurled Their fangs and the spray has swept and swirled, And ships in the gray gale's lair have furled Their sails--well may they fear it! The night will be but a monstrous seethe Of terrors elemental. The clouds will wrap in a ghastly wreath Of gloom the winds that in them breathe, And all that lives in the sea beneath By fear shall be made gentle; And sink down, down to the nether deeps, Below the foam and fretting. Down where the sullen water sleeps Alway and the slow sand coldly creeps Over the lone wreck, which Death keeps To guard him 'gainst forgetting. And there in the ominous vast calm They'll harbour, like enchanted Chill shapes he has strangely conjured from The silence of his masterdom; There float till again they feel the qualm Of hunger thro them panted. And then once more far up will they spring, To drift and sport and plunder, Shark, eel and whale and devil-thing, With tooth to rend and tail to sting. To the sea, O God, does horror cling And haunting past all wonder. SUNRISE IN UTAH The dun sand-cliffs that break the desert's sea Rose suddenly upon my sight at dawn, And terrible in an eternity Of death took silently the sunrise on. Purple funereal from rifted skies Swept down across their proud sterility, Only to die as here all glory dies, On barrenness I did not dream could be. O God, for a bird-song! or opening lips Of but one flower upon the fatal air, For but the voice of water as it drips, Or stir of leaves the day-wind makes aware! O God, for these,
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