An Alpine Valley.

OH, happy valley at the mountain's feet,

If half your happiness you could but know!

Though over you a shadow always falls,

And far above you rise those heights of snow,

So far, your yearning love you may not speak

With rosy flush like some high sister peak,

Yet you may clasp its feet in fond embrace,

And gaze up in its face.

And sometimes down its slopes a wind will come

And bring a sudden, noiseless sweep of snow,

Like a soft greeting from those summits sent

To comfort you below.

What more? Love may not ask too great a boon.

Enough to be so near, though cast so low.

Think that a sea had rolled between you twain

If careless fortune had decreed it so,

And you could only lie and look across

To distant cloudy heights and know your loss,

And see some favored valley, fair and sweet,

Heap flowers at its feet.