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...DESERT WATERCOLOR by RUBY BOWEN GILBERT: 2. THE PARLOUR by CHARLOTTE BRONTE CLEVEDON VERSES: 9. THE VOICES OF NATURE by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN THE WANDERER: 5. IN HOLLAND: THE PEDLER by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON ANNE HATHAWAY'S GARDEN by AMELIA JOSEPHINE BURR A PASSING SONG by GUY WETMORE CARRYL |