Sundown

        Hills, wrapped in gray, standing along the west;
            Clouds, dimly lighted, gathering slowly;
        The star of peace at watch above the crest--
            Oh, holy, holy, holy!

        We know, O Lord, so little what is best;
            Wingless, we move so lowly;
        But in thy calm all-knowledge let us rest--
            Oh, holy, holy, holy!

John Charles McNeill

John Charles McNeill was a prominent American poet known for his works that vividly depicted the landscapes and spirit of North Carolina. Born on July 26, 1874, in Wagram, North Carolina, he won acclaim with his book 'Songs Merry and Sad,' which won the Patterson Cup in 1905. His poetry primarily reflects rural life and Southern traditions. Sadly, McNeill's promising career was cut short when he died on October 17, 1907, at the young age of 33.

John Charles McNeill

An Easter Hymn

John Charles McNeill, Simple Poetry

Away Down Home

John Charles McNeill, Simple Poetry

Pardon Time

John Charles McNeill, Simple Poetry

Gray Days

John Charles McNeill, Simple Poetry

English

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Dawn

        The hills again reach skyward with a smile.
            Again, with waking life along its way,
        The landscape marches westward mile on mile
            And time throbs white into another day.

        Though eager life must wait on livelihood,
            And all our hopes be tethered to the mart,
        Lacking the eagle's wild, high freedom, would
            That ours might be this day the eagle's heart!

John Charles McNeill

Evening Hymn.

Sinking now in floods of light,
The sun resigns the world to night;
When a lingering glance he turns,
The glowing west with glory burns,
And the blushing heavens awhile
Long retain his parting smile.
Ere gray evening's sullen eye,
Bids those tints of beauty die;
Ere her tears have washed away
The footsteps of departing day,
Nature from her verdant bowers
Her last long strain of rapture pours;
Shrouded in her misty vest,
She sings a drowsy world to rest,
And tells to man, in thrilling strains,
That the Lord Jehovah reigns!

    Lingering twilight dies away,
Night resumes her ancient sway,
Round her sable tresses twining
Countless hosts of stars are shining;
Weaving round the brow of night
A coronet of living light:
O'er the co...

Susanna Moodie

The Sabbath Of The Woods

Sundown--and silence--and deep peace,--
Night's benediction and release;--
The tints of day die out and cease.

This morn I heard the Sabbath bells
Across the breezy upland swells;--
My path lay down the woodland dells.

To-day, I said, the dust of creeds,
The wind of words reach not my needs;--
I worship with the birds and weeds.

From height to height the sunbeam sprung,
The wild vine, touched with vermeil, clung,
The mountain brooklet leapt and sung.

The white lamp of the lily made
A tender light in deepest shade,--
The solitary place was glad.

The very air was tremulous,--
I felt its deep and reverent hush,--
God burned before me in the bush!

And nature prayed with folded palm,
And looks that wear perpetual c...

Kate Seymour Maclean

The Lakeside

The shadows round the inland sea
Are deepening into night;
Slow up the slopes of Ossipee
They chase the lessening light.
Tired of the long days blinding heat,
I rest my languid eye,
Lake of the Hills! where, cool and sweet,
Thy sunset waters lie!

Along the sky, in wavy lines,
Oer isle and reach and bay,
Green-belted with eternal pines,
The mountains stretch away.
Below, the maple masses sleep
Where shore with water blends,
While midway on the tranquil deep
The evening light descends.

So seemed it when yon hills red crown,
Of old, the Indian trod,
And, through the sunset air, looked down
Upon the Smile of God.
To him of light and shade the laws
No forest skeptic taught;
Their living and eternal Cause
His truer i...

John Greenleaf Whittier

Vision

        The wintry sun was pale
            On hill and hedge;
        The wind smote with its flail
            The seeded sedge;
        High up above the world,
            New taught to fly,
        The withered leaves were hurled
            About the sky;
        And there, through death and dearth,
            It went and came,--
        The Glory of the earth
            That hath no name.

        I know not what it is;
            I only know
        It quivers in the bliss
            Where roses blow,
        That on the winter's breath
            It broods in space,
        And o'er the face of death
            I see its face,
        And start and stand between
            Delight and dole,
        As though m...

John Charles McNeill

Mountain Pictures

I. Franconia from the Pemigewasset

Once more, O Mountains of the North, unveil
Your brows, and lay your cloudy mantles by
And once more, ere the eyes that seek ye fail,
Uplift against the blue walls of the sky
Your mighty shapes, and let the sunshine weave
Its golden net-work in your belting woods,
Smile down in rainbows from your falling floods,
And on your kingly brows at morn and eve
Set crowns of fire! So shall my soul receive
Haply the secret of your calm and strength,
Your unforgotten beauty interfuse
My common life, your glorious shapes and hues
And sun-dropped splendors at my bidding come,
Loom vast through dreams, and stretch in billowy length
From the sea-level of my lowland home!

They rise before me! Last nights thunder-gust
Roared...

John Greenleaf Whittier