Singing Cliffs 



It is, and that s enough for any mind. Ah! listen! 

 Now you will hear my Singing Cliffs.&quot; 



From out of the darkening shadows murmurs 

 rose on the softly rising wind. This strange music 

 had a depressing influence; but it did not fill the 

 heart with sorrow, only touched it lightly. And 

 when, with the dying breeze, the song died away, it 

 left the lonely crags lonelier for its death. 



The last rosy gleam faded from the tip of Point 

 Sublime; and as if that were a signal, in all the 

 clefts and canons below, purple, shadowy clouds mar 

 shaled their forces and began to sweep upon the 

 battlements, to swing colossal wings into amphithea 

 ters where gods might have warred, slowly to enclose 

 the magical sentinels. Night intervened, and a mov 

 ing, changing, silent chaos pulsated under the bright 

 stars. 



&quot; How infinite all this is ! How impossible to 

 understand! &quot; I exclaimed. 



&quot; To me it is very simple,&quot; replied my comrade. 

 The world is strange. But this canon why, we 

 can see it all ! I can t make out why people fuss so 

 over it. I only feel peace. It s only bold and beauti 

 ful, serene and silent.&quot; 



With the words of this quiet old plainsman, my 

 sentimental passion shrank to the true appreciation 

 of the scene. Self passed out to the recurring, soft 



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