Some faces showed the trace of recent tears,
And some revealed the impress of despair;
Others endeavored with a careless smile
To hide a breast surcharged with hopelessness,
As one afflicted with a foul disease
Strives to avoid the scrutinizing gaze
By the assumption of indifference;
Some whose misfortunes and adversities
And oft repeated disappointments, dried
The fountain heads of kindness, and had turned
Life’s sweetest joys to gall and bitterness. 
Each face betrayed some sort or form of woe;
In more than one I read a tragedy.

* * * * *

How complex is existence!  What a maze
Of complication and entanglement! 
Each thread combining with the other threads
Fulfills its office in the labyrinth;
Each link concatenates the other links
Which constitute the vast and endless chain
Of human life, and human destiny,—­
The strange phantasmagoria of fate.

* * * * *

So we, in life’s procession, pass along
To the accompaniment of secret dirge,
Or laughter interspersed with tear and groan;
Nor pause a moment, nor retrace a step,
But march in Fate’s spectacular review
In pageant to our common goal—­
                             The Grave.

Nature’s Lullaby.

A MOUNTAIN NOCTURNE

In forest shade my couch is made. 
  And there I calmly lie,
With thought confined in pensive mind,
  And contemplate the sky;
I wonder if the frowning cliff,
  The valley and the wood,
Or rugged freaks of mountain peaks,
  Enjoy their solitude.

The heavens hold a sphere of gold,
  A full and placid moon,
Suspended high, in cloudless sky,
  With constellations strewn;
Its mellow beam, on rill and stream,
  In silvery sheen I see;
Before its light, the shades of night
  As evil spirits, flee.

In space afar, a shooting star,
  With swift, uncertain course,
In dazzling sparks its passage marks,
  As it expends its force;
The mountains bare reflect its glare
  Of weird, unearthly light,
And e’en the skies, in glad surprise,
  Behold its gorgeous flight.

The spruce and pine, at timber-line,
  In straggling patches strewn,
Surcharge the breeze with melodies,
  The forests’ plaintive tune;
As they descend, the waters blend
  In babbling harmony,
And soothe to rest my tranquil breast,
  With Nature’s lullaby.

[Illustration:  “Where the torrent falls o’er the mountain wall.”

Bridal veil falls, near Telluride, San Miguel county, Colorado.]

The Spirit of freedom is Born of the Mountains.

The spirit of freedom is born of the mountains,
In gorge and in canon it hovers and dwells;
Pervading the torrents and crystalline fountains,
  Which dash through the valleys and forest clad dells.