On The Jellico-Spur.

TO MY FRIEND, JOHN FOX, JR. You remember, the deep mist, -     Climbing to the Devil's Den -     Blue beneath us in the glen And above us amethyst, Throbbed and circled and away     Thro' the wild-woods opposite,     Torn and shattered, morning-lit, Scurried up a dewy gray. Vague as in Romance we saw     From the fog one riven trunk,     Its huge horny talons shrunk, Thrust a hungry dragon's claw. And we climbed two hours thro'     The dawn-dripping Jellicoes,     To that wooded rock that shows Undulating peaks of blue: The vast Cumberlands that sleep,     Weighed with soaring forests, far     To the concave welkin's bar, Leagues on leagues of purple sweep. Range exalted over range     Billowed their enormous spines,     And we heard the priestly pines Hum the wisdom of their change. We were sons of Nature then;     She had taken us to her,     Closer drawn by brier and burr, There on lonely Devil's Den. We were pupils of her moods:     Taught the beauties of her loins     In those bloom-anointed coignes, - Love in her eternal woods: How she bore or flower or bud;     Pithed the wiry sapling-oak;     In the long vine zeal awoke Aye to climb a leafy flood. Her waste fantasies of birth:     Sponge-like exudations fair -     Dainty fungi everywhere Bulging from the loamy earth. Coral-vegetable things;     Crystals clamily exhaled;     Bulbous, marble-ribbed and scaled, Vip'rous colored; then close rings Of the Indian Pipe that cleft     Pink and white the woodland lax, -     Blossoms of a natural wax The brown mountain-fairies left. We on that parched precipice,     Stretched beneath the chestnuts' burrs,     Breathed the balsam of the firs, Felt the blue sky like a kiss. Soft that heaven; stainless as     The grand woodlands lunging on,     Wound majestic in the sun, Or as our devotion was! Freedom sat there cragged we saw,     Freedom whom hoarse forests sang;     Heaven-browed her eyes, whence sprang Audience august with law. Wildernesses, from her hips     Sprung the giant forests there,     Tossed the cataracts from her hair, Thunders lightened from her lips. Oft some scavenger, with vane     Motionless, above we knew     Wheeled thro' altitudes of blue By his rapid shadow's stain. Or some cloud of sunny white, -     Puffed a lazy drift of pearl, -     Balmy breezes o'er would whirl Shot with coruscating light. So we dreamed an hour upon     Those warm rocks, dry, lichen-scabbed.     Lounged beneath long leaves that dabbed At us coins of shade and sun. Then arose and down some gorge     Made a bowldered torrent broad     The hurled pathway of our road Tumbled down the mountain large. At that farm-house, which you know,     Where old-fashioned flowers spun     Gay rag-carpets in the sun, By green apple-boughs built low, Rested from our hot descent;     One deep draught of cider cool,     Unctuous, our fierce veins to dull At old Hix's eloquent.... On Wolf Mountain died the light;     A colossal blossom, rayed     With rent petaled clouds that played 'Round a calyxed fury bright. Down the moist mint-scented vale     To the mining camp we turned,     Thro' the twilight faint discerned With its crowded cabins pale. Ah! those nights! - We wandered forth     On some shadow-haunted path     When the moon was late and rathe The large stars; sowed south and north, Clustered bursting heavens down:     And the milky zodiac,     Rolled athwart the belted black, Myriad-million-moted shone. And in dreams we sauntered till     In the valley pale beneath,     From a dew-drop's vapored breath To faint ghosts, there gathered still, Grave creations weird of mist:     Then we knew the moonrise near,     As with necromance the air Pulsed to pearl and amethyst. Shrilled the insects of the dusk,     Grated, buzzed and strident sung     Till each leaf seemed tuned and strung For high Pixy music brusque. Stealing steps and stealthy sighs     As of near unhallowed things,     Rustled hair or fluttered wings, Seemed about us; then the eyes Of plumed phantom warriors     Burned mesmeric from some bush     Mournful in the goblin hush, Then materialized to stars. Mantled mists like ambushed braves,     Chiefed by some swart Blackfoot tall,     Stole along each forest wall - Phosphorescent moony waves. Then the moon rose; from some cup     Each hill's bowl, - magnetic shine,     Mist and silence poured like wine, - Brimmed a monster goblet up. Ingot from lost orient mines,     Delved by humpbacked gnomes of Night,     Full her orb loomed, nacreous white, O'er Pine Mountain's druid pines. As thro' fragmentary fleece     Her circumference polished broke,     Orey-seamed, about us woke Myths of Italy and Greece. Then - a chanson serenade -     You, rich-voiced, to your guitar     To our goddess in that star Sang "Ne Tempo" from the glade.