Poem by Alfred Castner King

* * *

There is an air of majesty,
A bearing dignified and free,
      About the mountain peaks;
Each crag of weather-beaten stone
Presents a grandeur of its own
      To him who seeks.

There is a proud, defiant mein,
Expressive, stern, and yet serene,
      About the precipice;
Whose rugged form looks grimly down,
And answers, with an austere frown
      The sunlight's kiss.

The mountain, with the snow bank crowned;
The gorge, abysmal and profound;
      Impress with aspect grand:
With unfeigned reverence I see
In canon and declivity
      The All-Wise Hand.

1. Think Not That the Heart Is Devoid of Emotion
2. Humanity's Stream
3. Nature's Lullaby
4. The Spirit of Freedom Is Born of the Mountains
5. To the Pines

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