Photo by the Author.
Of mountains round about thee some rise higher,
Yet none of them, both near and far, thy peers;
And none of them are led to hate and ire;
I rather think they greet thee with good cheers;
Thy plaudits ring from a multitude of seers,
For thou dost serve for all as Nature’s shrine.
What cynic looks, and yields his pent-up whine?
At once he joins the throng which round thee flock;
No mountain, man or god could thee decline,