“On Mansfield” Part I


On the crest of Mansfield
Glistening in the sun,
The trail is a path of mica
In web of silver spun,
It leads through spiny balsams
Where emerald mosses grow,
Through brilliant depths of patterned plush
With small white stars aglow . . .
Starry blooms of purest white
Lifting their faces to the light!

There are crevices on Mansfield
Where rare plants tangled cling,
Where beds of tiny blossoms
Over the thin turf fling
A coverlet to hide
The terrifying scope,
The grim and bald reality
Of Mansfield’s rocky slope . . .
A garden in the clouds
For Celestial hosts intended
Upon this lofty haunt
Where Heaven and earth are blended.
The trail leads over chasms
Upward to the Chin
Where unleashed winds in carnival
Forever are holding din!

Gargantuan spurs like breast-works
Reach in endless sweep
Into peaceful valleys
Where sunkissed homesteads sleep.
A white church stand lone
Where country roads are crossed,
Hills like billows, crest on crest,
In distances are lost.
Mountain ranges in serried ranks
In green robes march away
And Champlain proudly spreads
Her islands in display:
Beyond her shining leagues
The Adirondacks rise,
Their contours blue against the deeps
Of changing summer skies.

Inspiring crest of Mansfield!
An atom as gossamer tossed,
In the grandeur of God’s creation
Infinitesimal man is lost!

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