Untrodden Ways

Where close the curving mountains drew,
To clasp the stream in their embrace,
With every outline, shade and hue
Reflected in its placid face,

The ploughman stops his team to watch
The train, as swift it thunders by ;
Some distant glimpse of life to catch,
He strains his eager, wistful eye.

His waiting horses patient stand
With wonder in their gentle eyes,
As through the tranquil mountain land
The snorting engine onward flies.

The morning freshness is on him,
Just wakened from his balmy dreams ;
The wayfarers, all soiled and dim,
Think longingly of mountain streams.

Oh, for the joyous mountain air,
The long, delightful autumn day
Among the hills ! — the ploughman there
Must have perpetual holiday !

And he, as all day long he guides
His steady plough with patient hand,
Thinks of the train that onward glides
Into some new enchanted land,

Where, day by day, no plodding round
Wearies the frame and dulls the mind,
Where life thrills keen to sight and sound,
With ploughs and furrows left behind !

Even so to each the untrod ways
Of life are touched. by Fancy's glow,
That ever sheds its brightest rays
Upon the paths we do not know !