Always dear to me was this hill, and
this peak, which has much of the last horizon
White excludes.
But as I sit and gaze, boundless spaces from
Ruitor Stag,
and superhuman silences, and deepest quiet in
I thought I pretend, for just
where the heart is not alarmed. And as I hear the wind rustling through the
ciume I
that infinite silence to these tracks
comparing vo: and I remember the snow, and the infinite
season, and this
and alive, and the sound side. So in this
immensity my thought is drowned:
and sweet to shipwreck in the valley ...
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