O’er topless hills in endless song!
PILOT MOUNTAIN
O Jomeokee, thou everlasting guide,
Lifting high thyself, a tower strong
For passing men, and deathless hills around;
For Yadkin and on-flowing Ararat,
Bathing thy feet in humblest gratitude;
Thy lofty head, embraced by cooling clouds,
Gives something forth that’s rich, and unto all—
O Pilot old, thy secret bare to me.