“‘Mont Blanc yet gleams on high:—the power is there,
The still and solemn power of many sights,
And many sounds and much of life and death.
In the calm darkness of the moonless nights,
In the lone glare of day, the snows descend
Upon that Mountain; none beholds them there,
Nor when the flakes burn in the sinking sun,
Or the star-beams dart thro’ them:—Winds contend
Silently there and heap the snow with breath
Rapid and strong but silently! Its home