Behold the sweeping valleys <br />Where the heathered slopes do lie, <br />With rugged peaks that reach <br />Unto the ever-changing sky, <br />Where Snowdon stands before me now <br />As clouds begin to break, <br />Llanberis still the morning light <br />Now rests upon the lake. <br /> <br />I climb the path before me <br />That is strewn by rock and stone, <br />As the summit shrouded by the mist <br />Does proudly stand alone, <br />I pause for just a moment there <br />To look across the way, <br />As colours of September rise <br />To bless this holy day. <br /> <br />The shadows lift through darkness <br />As the sun begins to shine, <br />And valleys dressed in violet veils <br />Then meet the emerald pine, <br />Its peacefulness befalls me <br />As I breathe the mountain air, <br />And gaze with deepest awe upon <br />This land beyond compare.<br /><br />ANDREW BLAKEMORE<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/snowdonia/
