C.D. Warner, et al., comp.
The Library of the World’s Best Literature. An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.

Susan Marr Spalding (1841–1908)

THOU art a mountain stately and serene,

Rising majestic o’er each earthly thing,

And I a lake that round thy feet do cling,

Kissing thy garment’s hem, unknown, unseen.

I tremble when the tempests darkly screen

Thy face from mine. I smile when sunbeams fling

Their bright arms round thee. When the blue heavens lean

Upon thy breast, I thrill with bliss, O King!

Thou canst not stoop,—we are too far apart;

I may not climb to reach thy mighty heart:

Low at thy feet I am content to be.

But wouldst thou know how great indeed thou art,

Bend thy proud head, my mountain love, and see

How all thy glories shine again in me!