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Along the shore
Are little boats that dream
Of little journeys they will make;
Of journeys made no more.
Are little boats that dream
Of little journeys they will make;
Of journeys made no more.
—Far up the slopes gleam languid patches of mid-
summer snow that never go; dim flocks of snow among
the rocks of a perched mountain meadow.—
summer snow that never go; dim flocks of snow among
the rocks of a perched mountain meadow.—
Only the mountains are awake,
Guarding the vague low sky;
And a bird for its own song's sake—
And I!
Guarding the vague low sky;
And a bird for its own song's sake—
And I!
—Only a bird would dare to break the stillness of this
hour; make of the shattered air this cool unbroken
note—tiny master-tool within the tiny throat!—
***
Mountains—high mothers—
Storms lie in their laps,
Thunders and lightnings play about their iron knees;
I have seen them rock the sky to sleep.
hour; make of the shattered air this cool unbroken
note—tiny master-tool within the tiny throat!—
***
Mountains—high mothers—
Storms lie in their laps,
Thunders and lightnings play about their iron knees;
I have seen them rock the sky to sleep.
The mist lifts them;
Flint and ice floating as clouds float,
Unpeopled islands of a white unfathomed sea.
Flint and ice floating as clouds float,
Unpeopled islands of a white unfathomed sea.
They are like an unanswered crying turned to stone,
And beyond
And beyond
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