In the Mountains

GWENDOLYN THOMAS

I heard a lonely shepherd wind his horn
Upon the stillness of an alpine morn,
And heavenly fantasies from rock and dell
Poured down in echoes to his humble cell,
As though upon some organ strange and fair
A seraph played, in the pure upper air.
So music waiteth, thought I, from the dawn
Of earth's first hour, the call of man forlorn,
A symbol of the harmony that sways
Beneath, around, about us, all our days;
Only men hear it not, or do not know
The path up to the mountains from below.
There was a time, when out of very hell
I lifted up my eyes and heard Truth tell,
Up in the hills of heaven, how all is well.
Then I, who dreamed in dreaming sleep alway,
Awaked and sought the heart of Love, to pray.
And He a shepherd down the mountain sent
To guide my steps, because I darkling went,
Who brought me where I heard Truth's music blow
Among the hills of Life, sweet, soft, and low.

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