The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 4.
John Greenleaf Whittier, Ed.

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[57] I felt the cool breath of the North;
     Between me and the sun,
O'er deep, still lake, and ridgy earth,
     I saw the cloud-shades run.
Before me, stretched for glistening miles,
     Lay mountain-girdled Squam ;
Like green-winged birds, the leafy isles
     Upon its bosom swam.

And, glimmering through the sun-haze warm,
     Far as the eye could roam,
Dark billows of an earthquake storm
     Beflecked with clouds like foam,
Their vales in misty shadow deep,
     Their rugged peaks in shine,
I saw the mountain ranges sweep
     The horizon's northern line.

There towered Chocorua's peak; and west,
     Moosehillock's woods were seen,
With many a nameless slide-scarred crest
     And pine-dark gorge between.
Beyond them, like a sun-rimmed cloud,
     The great Notch mountains shone,
Watched over by the solemn-browed
     And awful face of stone!

‘A good look-off!’ the driver spake:
     “About this time, last year,
I drove a party to the Lake,
     And stopped, at evening, here.
Twas duskish down below; but all
     These hills stood in the sun,