LIFE OF JAMES DWIGHT DANA 



In desolation vast and wild, 



Outstretched a mighty ruin lies : 

 Huge towers on massy ramparts piled, 



High domes whose azure pales the skies. 



And surges wash with sullen swash 

 The crystal court and sapphire hall ; 



Through arches rush with furious gush, 

 And slowly sap the solid wall. 



Cold, cold as death the sky so bleak 

 That even daylight seems to shiver ; 



And, starting back from icy peak, 



The blinking sunbeams quail and quiver. 



They smile, those lonely, patient men, 



Though gladness mocks that scene so drear ; 



They speak yet words are spent in vain 

 Which seem to freeze upon the ear : 



And when at eve, with downy flake, 

 The snow-storm drops its veil around, 



The weary sleep, the watchful wake ; 

 But both alike in dreams are bound. 



Benighted in the fleecy shower, 



Wee Thulia slowly southward creeps ; 



Now overhung by tottering tower 

 Now all becalmed 'neath jutting steeps. 



Dim through the gloom, pale masses loom, 

 Like tombs in some vast burial-ground : 



Here stalking slow, in shroud of snow, 

 Ghostlike the night-watch tramps his round. 



Gray twilight glimmers forth at last 



The drapery of snow is furled ; 

 And isles of ice slow-filing past, 



Reveal the confines of the world. 



Day marches up yon wide expanse, 



Like herald of eternal dawn ; 

 But shifting icebergs now advance, 



And shut him out with shadows wan. 



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