By George Sterling

            Who views thee from the plain
Shall dream of coolness, not the icy storm
That on the bosom or thy mighty form
                Is but a stain.

            Who sees thine altar-snows
Shall muse on vastness and serenity,
Not know what winds are evermore on thee,
                Above repose.

            Who views thee from afar
Shall ponder on Time's magnitude, nor guess
Thine evanescence and they nothingness
                Below the star.

            Untrod, unshared, apart,
O snows where none shall dare, nor wish, to dwell!
O summit lone and inaccessible
                 Within each heart!

Bibliography Entry