Classic Poem

You, O lonely mountain-peak,
Only you have known me.
Unto you my heart may speak
Though no friends will own me.
I'm by other joys possessed,
Other griefs o'ertake me.
They who would be tenderest
In my need forsake me.
They but judged by what they saw,
Missed my inner nature;
Took for mine their spirits' law,
Failed to read one feature.
Mountain-cold toward every one
I, when warm they thought me;
Cold I seemed, when to a sun
Fiery passions wrought me.
Fouled with scorn by all and each
Was my love's pure fountain —
Vainly to the dalesmen preach
Dwellers of the mountain.
Hail, O mountain solitude,
Sunlit, icy-crested!
Lone too is my artist mood
Where the light hath rested.
I have visions none can see:
Stars o'er lakes that shimmer;
Ships of dream glide under me,
White sails all a-glimmer.
Close to God's mysterious fane,
Rapt in soul and free there,
I may quaff the blue disdain
Of the crystal ether.