the moutains stand and stare around,
they are far too proud to speak,
altho'they are rooted in the ground
up they go,peak after peak,
before the tallest house,and still
soaring over tree and hill
until you'd think they'd never stop
going up,top over top,
into the clouds——still i mark
that a sparrow pr a lark
flying just as high can sing
as if he'd not done anything.
i think the mountains ought to be
taught a little modesty.