The Mountains

All through tho f rozen land we sped, Through cuttings white and marshes drear; Through black planUUions. grim and dead. And forest yianis darkly soro. The landscape fled and passed bclow. And gazing stül, we saw no more Than one ereat cheerloss waste of snow, An ocean with no farther shore; Until the raountains rose aronnd, So stertüy f rom the icy earth, , And beauty, though rejected, found A home in her own very dearth. Cold they were, prido intensified In every line so gaunt and grim- A mantle and a pall of prideT That lingered when all elso grew dim. The rocky heads all powdored o'er. And in the valley far bolow A forest t&ngle, and once more A long and stainles? slope of snow. They seemed as mourning for the past. In hopeless mourning for an age So distant now, its records cast Bnt mystery onearth's dim page. They seemed as frowning on the eye That arrogantly dared to rsad Tho secret thonghts they laid so by. And to such süence had decreed. I They seemed as wrapped in voiceless scorn Too passionless to stop to hato, That anything of mortal bom Should daré one thougnt to penétrate. I met them, and I lef t them so, Still watching from their fortress whtta, Their cold, vast citadel oí snow, To see the flrst approach of night - Longing to feel its shadows gUde, And veil their griet and hide their pain, With eager longing, eren pride, Thoügh measnrelesa, cotüd not restrain.