I wandered through the mountains where solitary unfolds, Rain descends upon the creeping green of the moss, The uncut edge folds by the misted expanse, Ever endless the reach of the leaves downflows. Make your pilgrimage to these lone peaks, Where echoes and shadows dance in silence, Where peace breathes within the whisper; An eternal presence dwells, where blooms do gather, And the stole of beauty hides behind it.

• Ezra Pound