On the Barrier
ON the Barrier Ranges,
Grim, and grey and old,
Spring, the Maid of Wonder,
Spreads her cloth-of-gold;
Every hill and hollow
Carpeting with flowers—
O for feet to follow
Through the shining hours!
Once I saw the damsel—
Watched her at her task,
Basking in her glamour
As the lizards bask:
And, if I remember
Aught of gleam and glow,
’Tis that sweet September
Twenty years ago.
Twenty golden springtides—
Much—and yet how slight
Measured with that region,
Hollow-land and height;
Biding through Earth’s changes,
Steadfast to its shocks,
Oldest of the Ranges,
Ancientest of Rocks!
If with sweet recurrence
Youth renews the Earth,
Shall there come no glory—
Light and song and mirth—
Unto us who ponder
Much on banished joys?
Spring, thou Maid of Wonder.
Make us girls and boys!
