Poems

Poems

by Elizabeth C. Kinney
     
 

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Unlike some other reproductions of classic texts (1) We have not used OCR(Optical Character Recognition), as this leads to bad quality books with introduced typos. (2) In books where there are images such as portraits, maps, sketches etc We have endeavoured to keep the quality of these images, so they represent accurately the original artefact. Although occasionally

Overview

Unlike some other reproductions of classic texts (1) We have not used OCR(Optical Character Recognition), as this leads to bad quality books with introduced typos. (2) In books where there are images such as portraits, maps, sketches etc We have endeavoured to keep the quality of these images, so they represent accurately the original artefact. Although occasionally there may be certain imperfections with these old texts, we feel they deserve to be made available for future generations to enjoy.

Product Details

ISBN-13:
9781290629607
Publisher:
HardPress Publishing
Publication date:
08/28/2012
Pages:
248
Product dimensions:
6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.52(d)

Read an Excerpt


HYMN TO THE ALPS. I. Eternal pyramids, built not with hands, From linked foundations that deep-hidden lie, Ye rise apart, and each a wonder stands! Your marble peaks, which pierce the clouds so high, Seem holding up the curtain of the sky: And there, sublime and solemn, have ye stood, While crumbling Time, o'erawed, passed reverent by, Since Nature's resurrection from the flood, Since Earth, new born, again received God's plaudit, " Good !" Vast as mysterious, beautiful as grand! Forever looking into Heaven's clear face, Types of sublimest Faith, unmoved ye stand While tortured torrents rave along your base ; Silent yourselves, while, loosed from its high place. Headlong the avalanche loud thundering leaps! Like a foul spirit, maddened by disgrace, HYMN TO THE ALPS. 23 That in its fall the souls of thousands sweeps Into perdition's gulf, down ruin's slippery steeps. When rose before me your transcendent heights, Tipped from the orient with refulgent gold, While on your slopes were blended shades and lights, As morn's pale mist away, like drapery, rolled, My soul, entranced, forgot its earthly hold, Upborne to purer realms, on morning's wing; Yet felt serene, as ye are calm' and cold, A joy that sublimated every thing, That hushed all save the heart's profoundest, loftiest string. But when against the evening's solemn sky Your white peaks through the spectral moonlight peered, Ye were Titanic spirits to my eye, Awing the soul until itself it feared! Oh ! how sublimely awful ye appeared, Silent as death in your cold solitude; Appalling the lone traveller, as he neared Some sacred spot, where none might dare intrude With sandalled foot, base thought, or word, or action rude.Imagination gives you endless forms: ...

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