There's a nook in the hills where the green vines creep
Over rock and roof and tree;
From a lofty ledge the waters leap
To foam in a silver sea.

The white-winged eagle circles far
From her eyry-crag aloof;
Her nest is out on a jutting spar
And safe from the wild goat's hoof.

The jack-pines dream on the sloping height,
And a tent of blue is spread
Over misty billows fleecy white
That halo the mountain's head.

I revel there in the long, long look
Through vistas of vesper light,
And wait with a thrill in my mountain nook
My star-eyed sister Night.