R. L. Simpson, "A Forest Hymn" (1909)
That rises, falls, in rhythmic flow?
Hark!
From the distant plain
It sounds again.
Hark!
From yonder mountain peak
Sweet voices seem to speak,
As tho ' descending, chamois -like,
From rock to rock. What awe they strike!
Hark!
From hill and vale toward yonder wood,
Where oak and ash and all have stood
For years and years, defying time,
They all converging seem to chime.
Hark!
Those voices, dying ne'er,
Sounding on the morning air,
Seem greater life and strength to gain
With every beat and measure of refrain.
Hark!
Blending, chiming, with sweetest harmony,
That sounds like to angelic minstrelsy.
They slowly near.
From forest and valley that strange chorus sounds
Like the sweet, fettered voices of angels unbound,
Till at last it is here.
List!
Bird and beast and all are still;
Winding there about the hill,
E'en the stream that flows along
Stops to listen to the song.
Still!
How those voices blend and chime!
(Sweeter far than yours and mine.)
Now 'tis slow, now 'tis fast;
Now 'tis here; now 'tis past;
Then back again, and soft recede,
And almost in the distance dies away;
Then, loud and louder, as tho' freed
From all restraints; but ever, ever gay.
Hark!!!
No poet's pen, no genius ' ready tongue
Can ever limn
The beauty, grandeur, splendent glory
Of that simple forest hymn.
Published in Colored American Magazine, August 1909