Soft As A Cloud Is Yon Blue Ridge

Soft as a cloud is yon blue Ridge, the Mere Seems firm as solid crystal, breathless, clear, And motionless; and, to the gazer's eye, Deeper than ocean, in the immensity Of its vague mountains and unreal sky! But, from the process in that still retreat, Turn to minuter changes at our feet; Observe how dewy Twilight has withdrawn The crowd of daisies from the shaven lawn, And has restored to view its tender green, That, while the sun rode high, was lost beneath their dazzling sheen. An emblem this of what the sober Hour Can do for minds disposed to feel its power! Thus oft, when we in vain have wished away The petty pleasures of the garish day, Meek eve shuts up the whole usurping host (Unbashful dwarfs each glittering at his post) And leaves the disencumbered spirit free To reassume a staid simplicity.      'Tis well--but what are helps of time and place, When wisdom stands in need of nature's grace; Why do good thoughts, invoked or not, descend, Like Angels from their bowers, our virtues to befriend; If yet To-morrow, unbelied, may say, "I come to open out, for fresh display, The elastic vanities of yesterday"?