Classic Poem

Unaided! Then when I started, timorous,
there was no Mother, who might my knapsack fill
with bread for the day,
for one on the morrow away.

No kiss for me there was, and no tear did fall,
and no beloved hand on my shoulder lay,
its touch lingering there;
no sign of the cross, and no prayer.

Thou wert not near, and none saw me wretchedly
turn me away from all eyes; yet suddenly,
O Mother, heartbroke
that no one to my need awoke.

I, of myself, all alone and famishing
pushed for the height; yes, weeping, but silently,
when prickly thorns tore
my hand, and my feet, that were sore.

Weeping, when once the furious hurricane
hid with its mighty lament my little cry;
and then, when my grief
in the o'ershadowing All found relief.

Upward I climbed with no hand that valiantly
came to my aid; with no footsteps leading me,
that I could not miss,
on the edge of the breathless abyss.

I climbed the mountain without the clamorous
cries of companions to cheer me. Silence there.
No words to me said;
no voice but the voice of the dead.

Alone, unaided, I, with my soul alone,
and with my hatchet of steel cerulean,
up, breathless and slow,
up ever; through ice I must go!

And still I mount unaided, my ladder make
unaided, silent, alone, untiringly;
in the ice that I break
the end and the means I must make.

Upward I climb, but not to descend again,
no; not to hear the sound of the hand-clapping,
like breaking of stone â?¦
for I've heard the avalanche moan!

but to remain there, where it is good to stay,
up on the summit, in limpid purity,
my brothers, on high,
but humble: the mountain is high!

but with the eagles up there alone to stay,
and there to die, where he who comes after me
may find me serene,
immersed in the snow flower's red sheen;

and where to me may guide, flashing suddenly,
my fallen hatchet of steel cerulean,
bereft of my care,
reflecting the stars of the Bear.