I.—AFTER SUNSET ON JURA
The Alps—
A mighty string of pearls
Which Day has laid aside—
Flaunt their alluring beauty
Upon the purple velvet of deep valleys,
Until night,
Stretching out black greedy fingers,
Steals them one by one.
II.—LUCERNE
From staring eyes
Of hotel windows,
From flaunting rich
And cringing poor,
From men and women
Drunken with wine, passion and money,
From tired Cook's tourists
Doing Switzerland on sixteen pounds,
From shrieking steamers
Tearing the shadow of Mount Pilatus into shreds,
From bands beating out brazen music
Under the twisted plane-trees,
From all that is poor and rich and ugly,
I lift my eyes unto the eternal hills
Which are outlined upon orange and crimson
By a Supreme Master with a brush of sunlight,
And there my soul finds peace.
III.—LAKE LEMAN
Like the High Priest of Jehovah
The lake, for the Festival of Beauty
Puts upon its blue garment
A gorgeous jewelled breast-plate bordered with gold.
Behind the cloudy pillar glows a fire;
My eyes can scarcely bear its glory,
As it burns crimson and scarlet
On jasper and flame-colored sard,
On ruby, red as sunset flame,
And topaz shot with golden lights.
Like the eternal fire of distant stars—
Blue, green and white,
Gleam diamond, emerald, sapphire,
Jacinth and beryl,
Onyx and green-banded agate,
And amethyst purple as wild iris-flowers.
Morning and evening
On the day of the great Festival
The High Priest of Beauty wears his jewelled breastplate,
And the chosen people, blinded by its glory,
Bow down and worship.