To the Mountains

Grandeur of rocky height, Fleecy clouds of morning bright, Glistening on the mountain’s crown, Heaven and earth with blessings drown.

Yet, not in distance lies the grace; ‘Tis in the valley, in the space Where winds weave tales of purity, And whispers tell the mystery.

The grass lifts its emerald head; The wildflowers’ blush, the stream’s cool bed, All seek the sun and air’s delight, In nature’s glow where worlds ignite.

• John Burroughs