Still and blanched and cold and lone The icy hills far off from me With frosty ulys overgrown Stand in their sculptured secrecy. No path of theirs the chamois fleet Treads, with a nostril to the wind; O'er their ice-marbled glaciers beat No wings of eagles in my mind -- Yea, in my mind these mountains rise, Their perils dyed with evening's rose; And still my ghost sits at my eyes And thirsts for their untroubled snows. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PROMISE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE WIZARD IN WORDS by MARIANNE MOORE THE PLAINT OF THE CAMEL by CHARLES EDWARD CARRYL SYMPATHY (2) by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR EXCELLENCY OF CHRIST by GILES FLETCHER THE YOUNGER THE BANNER OF THE JEW by EMMA LAZARUS THE PAST IS THE PRESENT by MARIANNE MOORE THE INDIAN'S WELCOME TO THE PILGRIM FATHERS by LYDIA HUNTLEY SIGOURNEY |