Classic Poem

Hail to the heights that bid me climb,
Or capped with green, or white with rime!
Ever they hold out lures of hope
To lead me on from slope to slope;
And though when I the crests have won
There be no meed to seize upon,
Effort my sure reward shall be,
The striving and the mastery.
So, as I journey on with time,
I hail the heights that bid me climb!