Three Things – Mountains

Night on the Mountain

By George Sterling (1869 – 1926)

The fog has risen from the sea and crowned

The dark, untrodden sum­mits of the coast,

Where roams a voice, in canyons uttermost,

From midnight waters vibrant and pro­found.

High on each granite altar dies the sound,

Deep as the trampling of an armored host,

Lone as the lamentation of a ghost,

Sad as the diapason of the drowned.

The mountain seems no more a soulless thing,

But rather as a shape of ancient fear,

In darkness and the winds of Chaos born

Amid the lordless heavens’ thundering–

A Presence crouched, enormous and austere,

Before whose feet the mighty waters mourn.

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