“The Summit” [poem]
THE SUMMIT. 1
OH, we are on the mountain‐top!
The clouds float by in fleecy flock,
Heavy, and dank. Around, below,
A wilderness of turf and snow,—
Scanty rock‐turf, or marble bare,
Without a living thing; for there
Not a bird clove the thin, cold air
With labouring wing: the very goat
To such a height ascendeth not;
And if the cloudʼs thick drapery
Clove for a moment, you would see
The long, white snow‐fields on each side
Clasping the mountain‐breast, or heaped
In high, wreathed hills, whence torrents leaped,
And gathering force, as down they well
To aid the swift Rhineʼs headlong swell.
And here and there a mouldering cross
Of dark pine, matted oʼer with moss,
Hung on the precipice, a to tell
Where some benighted traveller fell;
Or where the avalancheʼs leap
Hurled down, with its wild thunder‐sweep,
Him unexpecting; and to pray
The passing traveller to stay,
And, looking from the precipice
Dizzily down to the abyss,
To wing to heaven one short prayer,
One, for the soul that parted there. b
The clouds float by in fleecy flock,
Heavy, and dank. Around, below,
A wilderness of turf and snow,—
Scanty rock‐turf, or marble bare,
System generated line number
5Without a living thing; for there
Not a bird clove the thin, cold air
With labouring wing: the very goat
To such a height ascendeth not;
And if the cloudʼs thick drapery
System generated line number
10Clove for a moment, you would see
The long, white snow‐fields on each side
Clasping the mountain‐breast, or heaped
In high, wreathed hills, whence torrents leaped,
And gathering force, as down they well
System generated line number
15To aid the swift Rhineʼs headlong swell.
And here and there a mouldering cross
Of dark pine, matted oʼer with moss,
Hung on the precipice, a to tell
Where some benighted traveller fell;
System generated line number
20Or where the avalancheʼs leap
Hurled down, with its wild thunder‐sweep,
Him unexpecting; and to pray
The passing traveller to stay,
And, looking from the precipice
System generated line number
25Dizzily down to the abyss,
To wing to heaven one short prayer,
One, for the soul that parted there. b