A Mountain Monument.

A Mountain Monument.
MARY H. C. BOOTH
563.5

The mountains crimsoned with delight
And shook in thunder thrills,
They leaned across the jeweled night,
And whispered to the hills.

And the little hills upspringing
Gave back an answering nod.
Then burst out into singing
Of freedom and of God.

And freedom took her dwelling place
Upon the mountains fair.
And proudly with a goddess’ grace
She rocks her eagles there.

The mountains shivered with unrest,
The he pitying goddess smiled.
She saw upon their snowy breast
The picture of her child.

Thy picture, Garibaldi,
Upon on the hills of God,
Where tyrant monarch never reigned
Where despot never trod.

She saw its towering forehead rise,
An Alp with sunlit snows,
Beneath its rainbow arched eyes
She hoard the storm’s repose.

The storm winds breathing, low and deep.
And whispering in their dreams,
As when a giant speaks in sleep
On most melodious themen

Around its bearded granite mouth
She enw the fringe of pines.
The sighing pine trees leaning south
And swaying toward the vines.

She saw its glorious features turned
To the sweer innd of song.
And her majestic spirit spurned
The world that wrought him wrong.

She longed to lure the poet land
Un to her crystal throne,
To lead her by her rosy hand
Where freedom reigns alone.

She longed to biri her dauntless
Rise in imperial might 3008
And lift her loved and fettered ones
Up to her realms of light.

The Indignant eagles sunward start.
The wondering winds awake;
Fredom is wounded in the heart
For all her children’s sake.

At Garibaldi’s prison bars
The guardian goddess aings,
She lifts the blood stained stelpes and stars
Over the throne of king