Volume 6 — Sub Umbra

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The hills that like billows swell clear in the dawn, Seem heaving with conscious existence this morn; For all the broad woods on their bosom serene Are waving their ocean of green! II. How fair! Save yon cloud sailing up from the west, Whose shadow falls dark on that bright, leafy breast But softly 'tis rocked: while beneath it is heard, In wood haunts, the note of the bird. * * * III. O heart! in yon shadow and soft-heaving sea, Thy God hath unfolded a lesson for thee; For oft while reposing 'neath sunniest skies, A cloud o'er thy rest may arise. IV. But when from that cloud the dark shadow shall fall, Heave gently, heave gently though under the pall! And 'neath the dark shadow let, sweet as the bird, Thy low, quiet music be heard! Richard Storrs Willis.