THE CITY ON THE PLAIN

S1trange indeed were the sounds I heard One day, on the side of the mountain: Hushed was the stream and silent the bird, The restless wind seemed to hold its breath, And all things there were as still as death, Save the hoarse-voiced god of the mountain.

2Through the tangled growth, with a hurried stride, I saw him pass on the mountain, Thrusting the briers and bushes aside, Crackling the sticks and spurning the stones, And talking in loud and angry tones On the side of the ancient mountain.

3The tips of his goatlike ears were red, Though the day was cool on the mountain, And they lay close-drawn to his horned head; His bushy brows o'er his small eyes curled, And he stamped his hoofs,--for all the world Like Pan in a rage on the mountain.

4"Where are my beautiful trees," he cried, "That grew on the side of the mountain? The stately pines that were once my pride, My shadowy, droop-limbed junipers: And my dewy, softly whispering firs, 'Mid their emerald glooms on the mountain?

5"They are all ravished away," he said, "And torn from the arms of the mountain, Away from the haunts of cooling shade, From the cloisters green which flourished here-- My lodging for many a joyous year On the side of the pleasant mountain.

6"The songbird is bereft of its nest, And voiceless now is the mountain. My murmurous bees once took their rest, At shut of day, and knew no fear, In the trees whose trunks lie rotting here On the side of the ruined mountain.

7"Man has let in the passionate sun To suck the life-blood of the mountain, And drink up its fountains one by one: And out of the immortal freshness made A thing of barter, and sold in trade The sons of the mother mountain.

8"Down in the valley I see a town, Built of his spoils from my mountain-- A jewel torn from a monarch's crown, A grave for the lordly groves of Pan: And for this, on the head of vandal man, I hurl a curse from the mountain.

9"His palpitant streams shall all go dry Henceforth on the side of the mountain, And his verdant plains as a desert lie Until he plants again the forest fold And restores to me my kingdom old, As in former days on the mountain.

10"Long shall the spirit of silence brood On the side of the wasted mountain, E'er out of the sylvan solitude To lift the curse from off the plain, The crystal streams pour forth again From the gladdened heart of the mountain."

11MILLARD F. HUDSON, in _American Forestry_, XIV. 42

12[Illustration: _Pillsbury's Pictures, Inc._ "'Where are my beautiful trees,' he cried, 'That grew on the side of the mountain?'"]