Page:Thirty poems (IA thirtypoems00bryarich).pdf/137

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SELLA.
131
I wearied of its wonders, and my heartBegan to yearn for my dear mountain home.I prayed my gentle guide to lead me backTo the upper air. 'A glorious realm,' I said,'Is this thou openest to me; but I strayBewildered in its vastness; these strange sightsAnd this strange light oppress me. I must seeThe faces that I love, or I shall die.' "She took my hand, and, darting through the waves,Brought me to where the stream, by which we came,Rushed into the main ocean. Then beganA slower journey upward. WearilyWe breasted the strong current, climbing throughThe rapids tossing high their foam. The nightCame down, and, in the clear depth of a pool,Edged with o'erhanging rock, we took our restTill morning; and I slept, and dreamed of homeAnd thee. A pleasant sight the morning showed;
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