The Alps. Thusis. Poem by Bessie Rayner Parkes

OUT from the house I went when early dawn
As yet had hardly ting'd the peaks with gold,
And cottage-smoke in faint ascending wreaths
Stole from the inner depth of valleys old.
At length upon a sunny hill I sat,
Looking at meadows cattle-strown below,
And upwards where into the clear blue sky
Shot out the tapering peaks of pathless snow:
And many similes within my brain
Stirr'd, as if Nature spoke aloud to me,
And said, 'Oh child that watcheth ever, learn
That which I mean by my solemnity.
Even as these high peaks above thee rear,
So stand great souls above the ranks of men;
No summer warmth caresses year by year
Grand heads encircled by a glorious pain.
But if of verdure bare, thou must not doubt
Joys of their own to such great souls are given;
Lonely they are; but though forlorn of men,
They stand in the unchanging light of heaven.
Oh child! receive their teaching; even as here,
Below them, fir and flower are glistering bright,
Warmer, more beautiful, the dawn descends,
Till all the lowest vales are fill'd with light.'