In the garb of a soft, silken mist,
I ascend to the brow
Of the mountain, and trust to my wings
When expanded as now.
And I darken the sky with a frown
That is fearful and grim;
And, encircled with fire flashing wild,
Often mutter a hymn--
With a harmony solemn and loud,
And with power that appalls,
As it rolls its dread echoes afar
Through the sky's vaulted halls!
Yet, relenting, I cheer the parched earth,
And refresh it with showers,
And awake thrills of joy in the breast
Of the grief-stricken flowers.
Though away like a shadow I pass,
Still I feel a desire
To repose in the smiles of the sun,
Clad in robes fringed with fire;
But in sorrow return to the earth,
In whose clime I was born,
And in silence await the calm light
Of the beautiful morn!
