Читать книгу Poems - John L. Stoddard - Страница 12

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The sun is low;

Yon peak of snow

Is reddening 'neath the sunset glow;

The rosy light

Makes richly bright

The Jungfrau's veil of snowy white.

From vales that sleep

Night's shadows creep

To take possession of the steep;

While, as they rise,

The western skies

Seem loath to leave so fair a prize.

The light of day

Still loves to stay

And round that pearly summit play;

How fair a sight

That realm of light,

Contended for by Day and Night!

Now fainter shines,

As Day declines,

The lustrous height which he resigns;

The shadows gain

Th' illumined plane;

The Jungfrau pales, as if in pain.

When daylight dies,

The azure skies

Seem sparkling with a thousand eyes,

Which watch with grace

From depths of space

The sleeping Jungfrau's lovely face.

And when the Light

Hath put to flight

Night's shadows from each Alpine height,

Along the skies

It quickly flies,

To kiss the Maiden's opening eyes.

The timid flush

And rosy blush

Which then from brow to bosom rush,

Are pure and fair

Beyond compare,

Resplendent in the crystal air.

And thus alway

By night and day

Her varying suitors homage pay;

And tinged with rose,

Or white with snows,

The same fair, radiant form she shows.