NORTH DOME VISTA 



Graft and greed intrude not here 

 Where Merced 's flood flows cool and clear; 

 Where healing mountain breezes blow 

 Their music-breath across our woe. 



And list! I hear the gladsome call 

 Of some far-singing waterfall; 

 I hear the night winds as they pass 

 With hurrying feet among the grass. 

 315 



