Poems of Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in The Juvenile Forget Me Not, 1836/The Little Mountaineer
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THE LITTLE MOUNTAINEER
Drawn by A ChisholmEngraved by W. Greatbach
THE LITTLE MOUNTAINEER.
By L. E. L.
Her naked feet are nothing loath
To touch their mother earth;
The pebble and the flower have been
Their comrades from their birth.
The wind is in her long fair hair,
She bares her listening ear,
And questions if a storm be nigh—
The little mountaineer.
The birds are sweeping through the sky,
Their white wings bear away
The brightness of the morning time,
The sunshine's lingering ray.
Like armies summoned by a king,
The clouds come far and near;
They gather round her native hills—
The little mountaineer.
She stands beside the ancient well
That from the broken wall
Sings day and night the same sweet song
In one low silvery fall.
She stands a lovely, lonely child
Without a thought of fear;
The cave of nature is around
The little mountaineer.
A pensiveness beyond its years
Is in her childish grace;
For many lonely hours have given
Their meaning to her face.
The mighty storms, the mighty hills,
Have lent their solemn cheer;
A poet's world is in her heart—
The little mountaineer.