Hamlin Garland
Ho, brother! Art thou prisoned too?Is thy heart hot with restless pain?I heard the call thy bugle blewHere by the bleak and chilling main(Whilst round me shaven parks are spreadAnd cindered drives wind on and on);And at thy cry, thy lifted head,My gladdened heart was westward drawn.O splendid bird! your trumpet bringsTo my lone heart the prairie springs.
Ho, brother! Art thou prisoned too?Is thy heart hot with restless pain?I heard the call thy bugle blewHere by the bleak and chilling main(Whilst round me shaven parks are spreadAnd cindered drives wind on and on);And at thy cry, thy lifted head,My gladdened heart was westward drawn.O splendid bird! your trumpet bringsTo my lone heart the prairie springs.
Ho, brother! Art thou prisoned too?Is thy heart hot with restless pain?I heard the call thy bugle blewHere by the bleak and chilling main(Whilst round me shaven parks are spreadAnd cindered drives wind on and on);And at thy cry, thy lifted head,My gladdened heart was westward drawn.
Ho, brother! Art thou prisoned too?
Is thy heart hot with restless pain?
I heard the call thy bugle blew
Here by the bleak and chilling main
(Whilst round me shaven parks are spread
And cindered drives wind on and on);
And at thy cry, thy lifted head,
My gladdened heart was westward drawn.
O splendid bird! your trumpet bringsTo my lone heart the prairie springs.
O splendid bird! your trumpet brings
To my lone heart the prairie springs.
The mountains they are silent folkThey stand afar—alone,And the clouds that kiss their brows at nightHear neither sigh nor groan.Each bears him in his ordered placeAs soldiers do, and bold and highThey fold their forests round their feetAnd bolster up the sky.
The mountains they are silent folkThey stand afar—alone,And the clouds that kiss their brows at nightHear neither sigh nor groan.Each bears him in his ordered placeAs soldiers do, and bold and highThey fold their forests round their feetAnd bolster up the sky.
The mountains they are silent folkThey stand afar—alone,And the clouds that kiss their brows at nightHear neither sigh nor groan.Each bears him in his ordered placeAs soldiers do, and bold and highThey fold their forests round their feetAnd bolster up the sky.
The mountains they are silent folk
They stand afar—alone,
And the clouds that kiss their brows at night
Hear neither sigh nor groan.
Each bears him in his ordered place
As soldiers do, and bold and high
They fold their forests round their feet
And bolster up the sky.
Within my hand I holdA piece of lichen-spotted stone—Each fleck red-gold—And with closed eyes I hear the moanOf solemn winds round naked cragsOf Colorado’s mountains. The snowLies deep about me. Gray and oldHags of cedars, gaunt and bare,With streaming, tangled hair,Snarl endlessly. White-winged and proud,With stately step and queenly air,A glittering, cool and silent cloudUpon me sails.The wind wails,And from the cañon stern and steepI hear the furious waters leap.
Within my hand I holdA piece of lichen-spotted stone—Each fleck red-gold—And with closed eyes I hear the moanOf solemn winds round naked cragsOf Colorado’s mountains. The snowLies deep about me. Gray and oldHags of cedars, gaunt and bare,With streaming, tangled hair,Snarl endlessly. White-winged and proud,With stately step and queenly air,A glittering, cool and silent cloudUpon me sails.The wind wails,And from the cañon stern and steepI hear the furious waters leap.
Within my hand I holdA piece of lichen-spotted stone—Each fleck red-gold—And with closed eyes I hear the moanOf solemn winds round naked cragsOf Colorado’s mountains. The snowLies deep about me. Gray and oldHags of cedars, gaunt and bare,With streaming, tangled hair,Snarl endlessly. White-winged and proud,With stately step and queenly air,A glittering, cool and silent cloudUpon me sails.The wind wails,And from the cañon stern and steepI hear the furious waters leap.
Within my hand I hold
A piece of lichen-spotted stone—
Each fleck red-gold—
And with closed eyes I hear the moan
Of solemn winds round naked crags
Of Colorado’s mountains. The snow
Lies deep about me. Gray and old
Hags of cedars, gaunt and bare,
With streaming, tangled hair,
Snarl endlessly. White-winged and proud,
With stately step and queenly air,
A glittering, cool and silent cloud
Upon me sails.
The wind wails,
And from the cañon stern and steep
I hear the furious waters leap.