BY WILLIAM STRUTHERS.
Up in the glorious sapphire reaches nesting,
A dazzling cloud lies white and still.
See how the airy, winged arms are resting
Above this valley and its either hill!
"Who knows what spirits of Love's highest heaven
Hide in these vapors?" speaks the cloud.
"Who hears what sweetest song of Love may leaven
With joy the loneness of my seeming shroud?
"I smile my snow-pure smile upon your valley,
Waiting a kind, westering gale;
I catch, meanwhile, strange whispering that sally,
By you unheard from woodland haunt and trail.
"Ah! when ye see my crystal rain-drops falling,
That chilly veil all yon blue height,
How know ye if behind them, softly calling,
Laugh not the cherubs of the Light of light."
Troy Daily Times. June 5, 1885: 1 col 2.