Excerpt from PoemsThese mountains Sleep, white Winter's mantle round them, The thunder's voice noq longer breaks their rest From bluest heights the sun beholds with rapture The noble pose of each gigantic crest.The generations of the Clouds have vanished Which lingered idly here through autumn days The leaves have gone, the voices of the tempest N 0 longer roll to heaven their hymn of praise.About the PublisherForgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.comThis book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully, any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.