Upon the mountain's distant head, <br />With trackless snows for ever white, <br />Where all is still, and cold, and dead, <br />Late shines the day's departing light. <br /> <br />But far below those icy rocks, <br />The vales, in summer bloom arrayed, <br />Woods full of birds, and fields of flocks, <br />Are dim with mist and dark with shade. <br /> <br />'Tis thus, from warm and kindly hearts, <br />And eyes where generous meanings burn, <br />Earliest the light of life departs, <br />But lingers with the cold and stern.<br /><br />William Cullen Bryant<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/upon-the-mountain-s-distant-head/
