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Our voices are thin in the thin air,
Our little hearts thud strangely.
We are near the nearness of its swift deaths
On these relentless heights—
Death, in the swerving shelves of blue bitter ice,
Death, in the sly shrouds that hang from its sinister banks,
Death, unconcerned!
Our little hearts thud strangely.
We are near the nearness of its swift deaths
On these relentless heights—
Death, in the swerving shelves of blue bitter ice,
Death, in the sly shrouds that hang from its sinister banks,
Death, unconcerned!
And we shall trickle down to life again
Unimportantly:
We of the summer valley.
***
Dusk wanders here alone;
No cloud or star runs at her side,
The lit sky is her own.
Unimportantly:
We of the summer valley.
***
Dusk wanders here alone;
No cloud or star runs at her side,
The lit sky is her own.
Along her paths of snow,
In that far fearless garden
She walks alone;
And from dim paths below,
I watch her plucking crimson flowers,
Roses in ice and stone.
***
And suddenly I fear these mountains!
There is a howling in the air
That is their intolerable voice,
They leap the sky,
They tear at the clouds,
Foam drips from their steep jaws.
In that far fearless garden
She walks alone;
And from dim paths below,
I watch her plucking crimson flowers,
Roses in ice and stone.
***
And suddenly I fear these mountains!
There is a howling in the air
That is their intolerable voice,
They leap the sky,
They tear at the clouds,
Foam drips from their steep jaws.
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