When we had found that there is no way to the white mountain We knew that we had been there always. The direct route to the summit That we had scarcely sighted through mist and cloud Is miracle, not even difficult. Our being is the single, simple thing, And the mountain and the longing, poles apart Become the axis of the living world: Their distance is the span of what we are. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LENTEN GREETING; TO A LADY by GEORGE SANTAYANA FONTAINEBLEAU (AUTUMN) by SARA TEASDALE MUJER by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS DOROTHY IN THE GARRET by JOHN TOWNSEND TROWBRIDGE MY VERY PARTICULAR FRIEND by MARIA ABDY FALLING STARS by PIERRE JEAN DE BERANGER TO HIS WIFE WITH A KNIFE ON THE 14TH ANNIVERSARY OF HER WEDDING DAY by SAMUEL BISHOP |