The Blue Ridge

STILL and calm,

In purple robes of kings,

The low-lying mountains sleep at the edge of the world.

The forests cover them like mantles;

Day and night

Rise and fall over them like the wash of waves.

Asleep, they reign.

Silent, they say all.

Hush me, O slumbering mountains --

Send me dreams.

Harriet Monroe

Index to poems in the collection by Harriet Monroe