New Poems

by Charles G.D. Roberts

 

IN THE VALLEY OF LUCHON

 
DAY long, and night long,
    From the soaring peaks and the snow,
Down through the valley villages
    The cold white waters flow.

Quiet are the villages;
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    And very quiet the cloud
At rest on the breast of the mountain;
    But the falling waves are loud

Through the little, clustering cottages,
    Through the little, climbing fields,
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Where every sunburnt vineyard
    Its patch of purple yields.

High hung, a steel-bright scimitar,
    The crooked glacier gleams.
The white church dreams in the valley
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    Where the red oleander dreams.

And every wonder of beauty
    Comes, as a dream comes, true,
Where the sun drips rose from the ledges
    And the moon by the peak swims blue.
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