Monadnoc
Upon the far-off mountain’s brow
The angry storm has ceased to beat,
And broken clouds are gathering now
In lowly reverence around his feet.
I saw the dark and crowded bands
On his firm head in wreath descending,
But there, once more redeemed, he stands,
And heaven’s clear arch is o’er him bending.
I’ve seen him when the rising sun
Shone like a watch-fire on the height;
I’ve seen him when the day was done,
Bathed in the evening’s crimson light;
I’ve seen him in the midnight hour,
When all the world beneath was sleeping,
Like some lone sentry in his tower,
His patient watch in silence keeping.
And there, as ever steep and clear,
That pyramid of nature springs!
He owns no rival turret near,
No sovereign but the King of Kings.
While many a nation hath passed by,
And many an age, unknown in story,
His walls and battlements on high
He rears, in melancholy glory.
And let a world of human pride,
With all its grandeur melt away
And spread around his rocky side
The broken fragments of decay,
Serene his hoary head will tower,
Untroubled by one thought of sorrow:
He numbers not the weary hour;
He welcomes not nor fears tomorrow.
Farewell! I go my distant way:
Perhaps, not far in future years,
The eyes that glow with smiles today
May gaze upon thee dim with tears.
Then let me learn from thee to rise,
All time and chance and change defying;
Still pointing upward to the skies,
And on the inward strength relying.
If life before my weary eye
Grows fearful as the angry sea,
Thy memory shall suppress the sigh
For that which never more can be,
Inspiring all within the heart
With firm resolve and strong endeavor
To act a brave and faithful part,
Till life’s short welfare ends forever.
The Rev. William B. O. Peabody, D.D