Page:Poems, Emerson, 1847.djvu/116

104 Nought the mountain yields thereof,

But savage health and sinews tough.

On the summit as I stood,

O'er the wide floor of plain and flood

Seemed to me, the towering hill

Was not altogether still,

But a quiet sense conveyed;

If I err not, thus it said:—

'Many feet in summer seek,

Betimes, my far-appearing peak;

In the dreaded winter time,

None save dappling shadows climb,

Under clouds, my lonely head,

Old as the sun, old almost as the shade.

And comest thou

To see strange forests and new snow,

And tread uplifted land?

And leavest thou thy lowland race,

Here amid clouds to stand?

And wouldst be my companion,