The Bridge Of Cloud

Burn, O evening hearth, and waken         Pleasant visions, as of old!     Though the house by winds be shaken,         Safe I keep this room of gold!     Ah, no longer wizard Fancy         Builds her castles in the air,     Luring me by necromancy         Up the never-ending stair!     But, instead, she builds me bridges         Over many a dark ravine,     Where beneath the gusty ridges         Cataracts dash and roar unseen.     And I cross them, little heeding         Blast of wind or torrent's roar,     As I follow the receding         Footsteps that have gone before.     Naught avails the imploring gesture,         Naught avails the cry of pain!     When I touch the flying vesture,         'T is the gray robe of the rain.     Baffled I return, and, leaning         O'er the parapets of cloud,     Watch the mist that intervening         Wraps the valley in its shroud.     And the sounds of life ascending         Faintly, vaguely, meet the ear,     Murmur of bells and voices blending         With the rush of waters near.     Well I know what there lies hidden,         Every tower and town and farm,     And again the land forbidden         Reassumes its vanished charm.     Well I know the secret places,         And the nests in hedge and tree;     At what doors are friendly faces,         In what hearts are thoughts of me.     Through the mist and darkness sinking,         Blown by wind and beaten by shower,     Down I fling the thought I'm thinking,         Down I toss this Alpine flower.