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Poem by Henry Timrod
Sonnets. 8. At Last, Beloved Nature! I Have Met
At last, beloved Nature! I have met Thee face to face upon thy breezy hills, And boldly, where thy inmost bowers are set, Gazed on thee naked in thy mountain rills. When first I felt thy breath upon my brow, Tears of strange ecstasy gushed out like rain, And with a longing, passionate as vain, I strove to clasp thee. But, I know not how, Always before me didst thou seem to glide; And often from one sunny mountain-side, Upon the next bright peak I saw thee kneel, And heard thy voice upon the billowy blast; But, climbing, only reached that shrine to feel The shadow of a Presence which had passed.
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