C.D. Warner, et al., comp. The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.

To ——

From the Foreign Quarterly Review

UPON a mountain’s summit

There might I with thee stand,

And o’er the tufted forest,

Look down upon the land;

There might my finger show thee

The world in vernal shine,

And say, if all mine own were,

That all were mine and thine.

Into my bosom’s deepness,

Oh, could thine eye but see,

Where all the songs are sleeping

That God e’er gave to me!

There would thine eye perceive it,

If aught of good be mine,—

Although I may not name thee,—

That aught of good is thine.