OR, THE WORLD HAS CHANGED. 



€omes dashing down into our vale, 

 Making a river of silvery trail ; 

 It's egress south, does seem shut in 

 As if no outlet, none had been. 



Ridges seemed joined in solid wall, 

 But through a gorge the waters fall ; 

 ■Go plunging down this narrow way, 

 Mad'ning in their boisterous play ; 



Reckless leaps to the dell below. 

 Plunging, foaming, and white as snow. 

 Just down there, once, we had a mill, 

 Wonder if it grinds, sawing still? 



High, o'er cottage, a mountain top, 

 As if upon perchance might drop ; 

 To the north, standing stark and stiff, 

 The mountain backbone, grand Sheep Cliff. 



And mountains circling all around, 

 So was this lovely valley bound ; 

 Much like some great amphitheater, 

 Built by God, the grand CreatxDr. 



A scene so grand, indeed so great. 

 Artist hand dare not imitate ; 

 And is so fraught with Nature's gush, 

 The tints must come from Heaven's brush. 



The sun climbs o'er the hills at ten, 

 Shines o'er this deep basin— and then 

 Hides its head at four, sinking down. 



Shuts out the curtailed horizon. 



Another valley, across a gap, 

 Cashier's, and lying like a lap ; 

 The lap of this great mountain chain, 

 And lies there yet, if been no change. 



13 



