SLOW toiling upward from' the misty vale, <br />I leave the bright enamelled zones below; <br />No more for me their beauteous bloom shall glow, <br />Their lingering sweetness load the morning gale; <br />Few are the slender flowerets, scentless, pale, <br />That on their ice-clad stems all trembling blow <br />Along the margin of unmelting snow; <br />Yet with unsaddened voice thy verge I hail, <br />White realm of peace above the flowering line; <br />Welcome thy frozen domes, thy rocky spires! <br />O'er thee undimmed the moon-girt planets shine, <br />On thy majestic altars fade the fires <br />That filled the air with smoke of vain desires, <br />And all the unclouded blue of heaven is thine!<br /><br />Oliver Wendell Holmes<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/near-the-snow-line/
