This page has been validated.
Hills that are not hills,
But a deliberate violent gesture of earth
Away from earth,
(Upward, always upward),
What are seasons to you?
What are arrivals or departures?

But I,
How shall I go?
It is so long since I have seen the curved bar
Of the horizon,
Making a prison of the world!

How shall I walk the plains again,
Go down and down—
Into the valley of the shadow of life?

Only because of mountains in my heart
For me to climb,
Heights, my own,
Depths, higher still;
And I, the pioneer!
***
Who is the pioneer?
He is the follower here,
Perhaps the last
Of all who passed.

He does not fear nor scorn
To tread
The ventured path, the worn,
Of those ahead;

112