Blue Ranges

By George Sterling

Dim hills! (I cried.)
  Mountains of azure delicate and far,
  Home of the setting star,
What mystery and loveliness you hide!

A nameless light
  Falls, wildly, on these woods and fields and streams,
  A land of dusk and dreams
And happiness delaying in its flight.

There marbles shine,
  Broken or not, and whiter by the tree
  The dryad waits for me-
Wreathing her forehead with a scarlet vine.

Oh! swiftly I
  Shall hasten from these narrow, dusty ways
  To where enchanted days
Lift, fearlessly, their music to the sky . . . .

I reached at last
  Those hills of dream, to find them lone and bleak,
  Snows on the noblest peak,
And graves that told but of the beauty passed.

I turned my glance
  To that far plain so grey to me before:
  O land of Nevermore ,
Now purple with the twilight of romance! 

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