The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 1.
John Greenleaf Whittier, Ed.

“Yet onward still to ear and eye
     The baffling marvel calls;
I fain would look before I die
     On Norembega's walls.

“So, haply, it shall be thy part
     At Christian feet to lay
The mystery of the desert's heart
     My dead hand plucked away.

“Leave me an hour of rest; go thou
     And look from yonder heights;
Perchance the valley even now
     Is starred with city lights.”

The henchman climbed the nearest hill,
     He saw nor tower nor town,
But, through the drear woods, lone and still,
     The river rolling down.

He heard the stealthy feet of things
     Whose shapes he could not see,
A flutter as of evil wings,
     The fall of a dead tree.

The pines stood black against the moon,
     A sword of fire beyond;
He heard the wolf howl, and the loon
     Laugh from his reedy pond.