Page:Poems Allen.djvu/74

Then the Knees, which will never bow,
 Never bend or obey again;
And then the motionless Feet, which now
 Are done with walking in sun and rain.

These are the mountains; and over all
 Sinks and settles the winding-sheet,
Following sharply each rise and fall
 From the pallid face to the quiet feet.

These are the mountains which through the gloom
 Rising whitely and cold I see,
Sloping into the shadowy tomb,—
 The mournful hills of mortality.

And of all the dear ones whose souls have crossed
 These terrible summits in fear and pain,
We only know they are gone and lost,
 And never return to our arms again.

So we wander and grope in our earthly clime,
 Fettered and cramped by this mortal bond,
Watching the mountains from time to-time,
 And questioning vainly the dim beyond.