  A cabin on the mountain side hid in a grassy nook, With door and windows open wide where friendly stars may look; The rabbit shy can patter in; the winds may enter free Who throng around the mountain throne in living ecstasy. And when the sun sets dimmed in eve and purple fills the air, I think the sacred hazel tree is dropping berries there From starry fruitage waved aloft where Connla's well o'erflows; For sure the immortal waters run through every wind that blows. I think when night towers up aloft and shakes the trembling dew, How every high and lonely thought that thrills my spirit through Is but a shining berry dropped down through the purple air, And from the magic tree of life the fruit falls everywhere. A.E. |
|
