Poems and Songs

Into the

 Mountain Mist

We tread high ridges at our will,

Free in the lucent air,

Out eagle gaze untrammelled, till

Mistís probing fingers, damp and chill,

Cobweb our lips and hair.

(The old, blind spirit of the hill

Inquiring who goes there?).

Soon, cloistered in the clinging shade,

We stumble, no more free.

Amorphous shadows loom and fade:

Ambiguous shapes made and unmade

Are all we seem to see.

(And while our senses are betrayed

Where, but in dreams, are we?).

Time will resolve our present plight;

Hold fast to what we know.

Steer carefully towards the light

For lower down the world is bright

(Thrilling to face the mountainís might,

Wise to retire below).


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