Old crater-tops! Cloud-bumped! Snow-white!
Our mountains these—all day and night
They show above the ridges. What?
You’ve never climbed? You’ve missed a lot!
When you have known the grunts and chills,
The cold, the sweat, the gasps, the thrills;
And winced at dazzling snow reared high
Against a dye of cobalt sky;
And faced the blast that strives its best
To hurl you headlong off the crest;
Seen countless ranges fade into
The whole vast earth-encircling blue
That holds the rim of the sky’s bowl;
And sniffed the clouds and watched them roll
Close-packed beneath you in the sun and ride
Like foaming billows at flood-tide;
When you have done these things, you’ll speak
With reverence of a mountain-peak.
Such friendships last—they’re not
Remembered lightly nor forgot.