(With thoughts of Leslie Stephen) ALOOF, as if a thing of mood and whim; Now that its spare and desolate figure gleams Upon my nearing vision, less it seems A looming Alp-height than a guise of him Who scaled its horn with ventured life and limb, Drawn on by vague imaginings, maybe, Of semblance to his personality In its quaint glooms, keen lights, and rugged trim. At his last change, when Life's dull coils unwind, Will he, in old love, hitherward escape, And the eternal essence of his mind Enter this silent adamantine shape, And his low voicing haunt its slipping snows When dawn that calls the climber dyes them rose? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FORSAKEN by C. HAMILTON AIDE PARLIAMENT OF WOMEN: PRAXAGORA REHEARSES by ARISTOPHANES THE FIRST FIRE by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD JESUS - THE CONQUEROR RENOWNED by BERNARD OF CLAIRVAUX PSALM 39, VERSE 4 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE UNTIL DEATH by ANNE CHARLOTTE LYNCH BOTTA A PIPE OF TOBACCO (MR. POPE'S STYLE IMITATED) by ISAAC HAWKINS BROWNE |