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.