Between black foreheads of rock in haze,
Slowly, like grievèd gods to earth.
And there for ever the patient Wind
Rakes up the crystals of dry snow,
And mourns for ever her work undone;
And there for ever, like Titans blind,
Their countenance lifting to Heaven’s glow,
The sightless Mountains yearn for the Sun.
There nightly the numbèd eagle quells
(Full-feather’d to his feet of horn)