STAND here and look, and softly hold your breath Lest the vast avalanche come crashing down! How many miles away is yonder town Set flower-wise in the valley? Far beneath -- A scimitar half drawn from out its sheath -- The river curves through meadows newly mown; The ancient water-courses are all strown With drifts of snow, fantastic wreath on wreath; And peak on peak against the turquoise-blue The Alps like towering campanili stand, Wondrous, with pinnacles of frozen rain, Silvery, crystal, like the prism in hue. O, tell me, love, if this be Switzerland -- Or is it but the frost-work on the pane? |