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By Burke’s Pass

Nature, earth’s angel, man’s antagonist,
The stern antagonist from whom he wrests his bread,
Long heretofore with vast magnificence
Did carve this scene, prepare the arena, spread
Bronze tussocked terraces before precipitous
Great purple alps, loose glacier-shed
Fierce-laughing streams in circuitous riverbed.

Lo, man to the assault! In part victorious,
His pretty trophies sets he up to amend
The natural scene. The corn-stacks aureate,
Wearing their weights like amulets, the autumn blend
Of orange-spattered poplars, with the various
Gilt willows are his signet. Now, vainglorious,
He calls the expanse a home and awful Nature, friend.

The austere angel smiles on man’s predicament,
Foregoes awhile advantage, and abates his blows;
Soft mein assumes of kindly ministrant;
As on this ending day in genial radiance glows
The whole amphitheatre, stark antinomy
Of wild and won annulled; and, new-companioned foes,
Beneath the hostile heights homestead and farm repose.

Homestead? Nay, halting-place, accommodation
Achieved… Did not that sombre regimented band
Of firs, those gravestones, publish man’s condition?
For night, parental night, shall soon with gentle hand
Suspend her folding arras, resume domination;
Nature, to rest dismissed by a most high command,
Shortly roll up this planetary decoration,
Man having passed darkly onwards to an unknown land.