My heart cries out as unto true friend near.
Nor holds that half-forbidding strength of form
Memories more dear than give so deep a grace
To other heights, yet e’er on yon dark face,
Sun-lighted be it, or half-veiled in storm,
I longing gaze with thoughts no words define,
And feel the dumb rock-heart low-answering mine.
II.—NOON.
I climb the rugged slopes that sweep with strength
And lines, scarce broken, from the desert wide,