Sunrise On The Hills

I stood upon the hills, when heaven's wide arch     Was glorious with the sun's returning march,     And woods were brightened, and soft gales     Went forth to kiss the sun-clad vales.     The clouds were far beneath me; bathed in light,     They gathered mid-way round the wooded height,     And, in their fading glory, shone     Like hosts in battle overthrown.     As many a pinnacle, with shifting glance.     Through the gray mist thrust up its shattered lance,     And rocking on the cliff was left     The dark pine blasted, bare, and cleft.     The veil of cloud was lifted, and below     Glowed the rich valley, and the river's flow     Was darkened by the forest's shade,     Or glistened in the white cascade;     Where upward, in the mellow blush of day,     The noisy bittern wheeled his spiral way.         I heard the distant waters dash,     I saw the current whirl and flash,     And richly, by the blue lake's silver beach,     The woods were bending with a silent reach.     Then o'er the vale, with gentle swell,     The music of the village bell     Came sweetly to the echo-giving hills;     And the wild horn, whose voice the woodland fills,     Was ringing to the merry shout,     That faint and far the glen sent out,     Where, answering to the sudden shot, thin smoke,     Through thick-leaved branches, from the dingle broke.         If thou art worn and hard beset     With sorrows, that thou wouldst forget,     If thou wouldst read a lesson, that will keep     Thy heart from fainting and thy soul from sleep,     Go to the woods and hills!    No tears     Dim the sweet look that Nature wears.