"Oh, the morn looked bright on hill and dale" ["The Black Forest"] [poem]
[THE BLACK FOREST]
OH! the morn looked bright on hill and dale,
As we left the walls of merry [Kehl], 1
And towʼrds the long hill‐ridges wound
That ramparted the plain around,—
That, greener growing as we neared,
At length with meadows decked appeared
Fair as our fields in May; and then
We entered on a little glen,
Those miniature Alps among, 2
All smiling with a morning sun;
Grassy, and woody, and most sweet
As ever fairy her retreat
Formed for her midnight dances. Through—
Tracing, in mazy winds anew,
The spots it had passed oʼer, as fain
To run its sweet course oʼer again,—
Flowed a small tributary stream
That the Rhine levied. 3 All between
The frontlets of the fair, fresh hills a
Leaped merrily the glad, young rills,
Smiling in silver as they sprang,
And merry were the notes they sang:
For they were joyful at their birth
From the cold prisons of the earth
To the warm sun, and open sky;
And their song was all of liberty.
But the dell narrowed as we went;
Till, ʼtwixt the promontories pent
It upward ran; and the clear stream
Now forward shot, its banks between,
Fast flashing; till from the obscure
Emerged we on a lofty moor, 4
Open, and shelterless, and bare,
And gently undulating far;
With here and there a patch of pine
Breaking the smoothness of its line. b
As we left the walls of merry [Kehl], 1
And towʼrds the long hill‐ridges wound
That ramparted the plain around,—
That, greener growing as we neared,
System generated line number
5At length with meadows decked appeared
Fair as our fields in May; and then
We entered on a little glen,
Those miniature Alps among, 2
All smiling with a morning sun;
System generated line number
10Grassy, and woody, and most sweet
As ever fairy her retreat
Formed for her midnight dances. Through—
Tracing, in mazy winds anew,
The spots it had passed oʼer, as fain
System generated line number
15To run its sweet course oʼer again,—
Flowed a small tributary stream
That the Rhine levied. 3 All between
The frontlets of the fair, fresh hills a
Leaped merrily the glad, young rills,
System generated line number
20Smiling in silver as they sprang,
And merry were the notes they sang:
For they were joyful at their birth
From the cold prisons of the earth
To the warm sun, and open sky;
System generated line number
25And their song was all of liberty.
But the dell narrowed as we went;
Till, ʼtwixt the promontories pent
It upward ran; and the clear stream
Now forward shot, its banks between,
System generated line number
30Fast flashing; till from the obscure
Emerged we on a lofty moor, 4
Open, and shelterless, and bare,
And gently undulating far;
With here and there a patch of pine
System generated line number
35Breaking the smoothness of its line. b