Towards democracy

Easter Day on Mt. Mounier 431

Goes foraging for snails. The people still

Dimly athwart the mists of time remember,

Of Heracles the Savior,

How on this Plain, that Promontory, he rested

From his great labors in the West returning.

Still the little Church of St. Michael on the rock Stands dearer to the folk for being pagan;

And still provencal songs and dances gladden the vintage; And Moorish faces, and Greek, and old Phcenician,

Stir in the villages a stones-throw from the rail.

And still old names and festivals and customs Linger along the coast and country side;

And still the hills stand, still the herbs diffuse From the warm ground the old intoxication Of aromatic sweetness. The waters still

Lap blue against the rocks. The snowy Alps Look o’er the foot-hills and far out to sea,

To where and when perchance a worthier race Than all that yet has been at length shall come And gaze with grateful eyes upon their beauty, And crown their slopes with gladness.

Easter Day on Mr. Mounter (In the Alpes Maritimes) ILENCE.Here ona rock in blue mid-air nine thousand feet, The whole encircling sky flooded with light—the sun an

unfaceable point in the dazzling zenith,