It was a clouded fortress in the hills,
it seemed so then, a solemn inside thing;
but now it elevated lies, a great
blue skies' romance; and not that sort of thing.
That was the school; during the stuffy day,
a sort of patience played in lengthy hours;
and turning pale, till evening airs came,
and claimed one's all: a puff of mountain air!
The window I so fear to open now
to incandesce flesh wearied in the day
fell on my never-wincing frame, and taught it
the physiognomy of trees, and a love
of rain. No more does mountain air know me:
no mountains (but One) in the great city.
