Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, WINTER MOUNTAIN, by MARIANA BACHMAN



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WINTER MOUNTAIN, by            
First Line: Mount taylor is a grandma in her cap
Last Line: Her cup held pure; while we mix gold with dross.
Subject(s): Mountains; Hills; Downs (great Britain)


Mount Taylor is a grandma in her cap
Looking from out her ruffles while she knits
So quietly counting stitches while time flits
And caring nothing ever, come what hap.
All peacefully enthroned upon her chair
While snow-lace cap falls down upon one eye
She does not care how people may drift by
Nor seeks one gift of praise, rude blame, or prayer.

We come and go like ants beneath that dome
Often unquiet, and never satisfied;
Fevered with wants and cold with weary loss.
Mount Taylor points us to our alter-home
Lifting forever she may thus abide,
Her cup held pure; while we mix gold with dross.





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