IN summer dusk the valley lies <br />With far-flung shadow veil; <br />A cloud-sea laps the precipice <br />Before the evening gale: <br />The welter of the cloud-waves grey <br />Cuts off from keenest sight <br />The glacier, looking out by day <br />O'er all the district, far away, <br />And crowned with golden light. <br /> <br />But o'er the smouldering cloud-wrack's flow, <br />Where gold and amber kiss, <br />Stands up the archipelago, <br />A home of shining peace. <br />The mountain eagle seems to sail <br />A ship far seen at even; <br />And over all a serried pale <br />Of peaks, like giants ranked in mail, <br />Fronts westward threatening heaven. <br /> <br />But look, a steading nestles, close <br />Beneath the ice-fields bound, <br />Where purple cliffs and glittering snows <br />The quiet home surround. <br />Here place and people seem to be <br />A world apart, alone; -- <br />Cut off from men by spate and scree <br />It has a heaven more broad, more free, <br />A sunshine all its own. <br /> <br />Look: mute the saeter-maiden stays, <br />Half shadow, half aflame; <br />The deep, still vision of her gaze <br />Was never word to name. <br />She names it not herself, nor knows <br />What goal my be its will; <br />While cow-bells chime and alp-horn blows <br />It bears her where the sunset glows, <br />Or, maybe, further still. <br /> <br />Too brief, thy life on highland wolds <br />Where close the glaciers jut; <br />Too soon the snowstorm's cloak enfolds <br />Stone byre and pine-log hut. <br />Then wilt thou ply with hearth ablaze <br />The winter's well-worn tasks; -- <br />But spin thy wool with cheerful face: <br />One sunset in the mountain pays <br />For all their winter asks.<br /><br />Henrik Johan Ibsen<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/mountain-life/
