There is an Air of Majesty.

There is an air of majesty,
A bearing dignified and free,
      About the mountain peaks;
Each crag of weather-beaten stone
Presents a grandeur of its own
      To him who seeks.

There is a proud, defiant mein,
Expressive, stern, and yet serene,
      About the precipice;
Whose rugged form looks grimly down,
And answers, with an austere frown
      The sunlight’s kiss.

The mountain, with the snow bank crowned;
The gorge, abysmal and profound;
      Impress with aspect grand: 
With unfeigned reverence I see
In canon and declivity
      The All-Wise Hand.

Think Not that the Heart is Devoid of Emotion.

Think not that the heart is devoid of emotion,
  Because of a countenance rugged and stern,
The bosom may hide the most fervent devotion,
  As shadowy forests hide floweret and fern;
As the pearls which are down in the depths of the ocean,
  The heart may have treasures which few can discern.

Think not the heart barren, because no reflection
  Is flashed from the depths of its secret embrace;
External appearance may baffle detection,
  And yet the heart beat with an ethical grace: 
The breast may be charged with the truest affection
  And never betray it by action or face.

[Illustration:  “Where nature’s chemistry distills, The fountain and the laughing rills.”

Scene near Telluride, San Miguel county, Colorado.]

Humanity’s Stream.

I stood upon a crowded thoroughfare,
Within a city’s confines, where were met
All classes and conditions, and surveyed,
From a secluded niche or aperture,
The various, ever-changing multitude
Which passed along in restless turbulence,
And, as a human river, ebbed and flowed
Within its banks of brick and masonry.

Within this vast and heterogeneous throng,
One might discern all stages and degrees,
From wealth and power to helpless indigence;
Extravagance to trenchant penury,
And all extremes of want and misery. 
Some blest by wealth, some cursed by poverty;
Some in positions neutral to them both;
Some wore a gaunt and ill-conditioned look
Which told its tale of lack of nourishment;
While others showed that irritated air
Which speaks of gout and pampered appetite;
Some following vocations quite reverse
From those which nature had endowed them for;
Some passed with face self-satisfied and calm,
As if the world bore nothing else but joy;
And some there were who, from the cradle’s mouth,
As they pursued their journey to the grave,
Had felt no throb save that of misery;
The man of large affairs passed by in haste,
With mind preoccupied, nor thought of else
Save undertakings which concerned himself;
The shallow son of misplaced opulence