... Beautiful
Are all the thousand snow-white gems that lie
In these mysterious chambers, gleaming out
Amid the melancholy gloom, and wild
These rocky hills and cliffs, and gulfs, but far
More beautiful and wild, the things that greet
The wanderer in our world of light--the stars
Floating on high, like islands of the blest,--
The autumn sunsets glowing like the gate
Of far-off Paradise; the gorgeous clouds
On which the glories of the earth and sky
Meet, and commingle; earth's unnumbered flowers,
All turning up their gentle eyes to heaven;
The birds, with bright wings glancing in the sun,
Filling the air with rainbow miniatures;
The green old forests surging in the gale;
The everlasting mountains, on whose peaks
The setting sun burns like an altar-flame.
* * * * *
=_Charles Constantine Pise, 1802-1866._= (Manual, p. 532.)
From "The Pleasures of Religion."
=_353._= THE RAINBOW.
Mark, o'er yon wild, as melts the storm away,
The rainbow tints their various hues display;
Beauteous, though faint, though deeply shaded, bright,
They span the clearing heavens, and charm the sight.
Yes, as I gaze, methinks I view--the while,
Hope's radiant form, and Mercy's genial smile.
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