The Mountain

Tall sentinel of Time, thy brow Bears crags of ancient kingly might; Eternal, crowned with whiteness now, Like snow, a vast expanse of light.

The winds unfold thy time-torn face, While ages past and ages yet, Lay secrets deep in thy embrace In solitude, where mortals fret.

Yet, high aloft, thy peaks do soar, A savage beauty speaks of grace, Thou art the ancient mountain shore That greets the sun’s soft morning trace.

• Helen M B M Maud