The peaks even today show finger prints
Where God last touched the earth
Before he set it joyously in space
Finding it good.

III

You, slender shining--
You, downward leaping--
Born from silent snow
To drown at last in the blue silent
Mountain lake--
You are not snow or water,
You are only a silver spirit
Singing!

IV

Sharp crags of granite,
Pointing, threatening,
Thrust fiercely up at me;
And near the edge, their menace
Would whirl me down.

V

Climbing desperately toward the heights
I glance in terror behind me
To be deafened--to be shattered--
By a thunderbolt of beauty.