On the Mountain's Slope

High on the mountain's slope I pause and turn--
Over my head, by the rough crag-points high,
Seems rent and torn the tender hovering sky,
Till almost--thro'--I see a Heaven-spark burn;
Then downward to the sleeping world I yearn
Whose eyes so heavy droop they may not try
To catch the higher gleam--and live thereby--
Youth passes graveward--and they never learn.
Then faint with brooding o'er a careless earth
I turn to Nature and her broad warm breast,
Strive for a friendship with her sun-burnt mirth,
Teach my sad soul to catch her cadence deep,
Dream that in her absorbed my heart must rest;
But Nature smiles, and turns once more in sleep.