Wonderful Places

I am haunted by wonderful places-

And not by human faces;

My only ghosts, by day or night,

Are Nature's own, of sound or sight.

I see again the hollow, deep and round,

Filled with a murmuring sound;

Where Summer sent her flowers, with bees

And humming-birds to play with these.

Again, and still again, I dream

How Colorado's stream

Squeezed his huge body through

A narrow gorge, and never knew

That Heaven's thunder

Was but a whisper to his one down under.

Again I see the mighty leap

Made by the wild pacific deep

At Rarotonga, off a coral bed-

With his own mist to hide his face and head.

I am haunted by wonderful places-

And not by human faces.