The mountains are a place of wonder, Where horizons touch the sky, Where strength and beauty blend strangely, In the hush of dusk passing by.

The valleys cradle lost stories, Written in silence, told by the streams, As the sun sinks low, and the shadows grow, Continuing life’s fanciful dreams.

A world between these peaks that stand tall, As nature’s priests in sacred time, With the echoes of grasses wild, Filling the heart with strength so fine.

Oh, to wander these endless pathways, Beneath the boughs of trees that seem Awash in the hues of a sunset’s gold, Where the stars awaken the flickering dreams.

• Robert Frost