AN IMITATION.
 
        As once I dreamed, methought I strayed
        Within a snow-clad mountain's shade;
        From whose far height the silence bore
        One charméd word, "Excelsior!"
 
        And, as upon my soul it fell,
        It bound me with a fearful spell;
        It shut the sweet vale from my sight,
        And called me up that dazzling height.
 
        I could not choose but heed its tone,
        And climb that dreary path alone;
        And now around me hung the gloom,
        Where the storm-spirit makes his home.
 
        Upon my head the tempests beat;
        Dark caverns opened at my feet;
        The thunders rolled, the lightnings flashed
        And fierce the swollen torrents dashed.
 
        'Twas gained, that mountain's stormy pass;
        But, chilled beside a mer de glace,
        My heavy heart in vain would soar, --
        The heart hears not "Excelsior!"
 
        The heart's home is the vale below,
        Where kind words greet, where fond eyes glow;
        It withers 'neath those frozen skies,
        Where the aspiring thought would rise.
 
        Above me the eternal snows
        In the cold sunlight's glare arose,
        And a dread Presence seemed to brood
        O'er the appalling solitude.
 
        But now, on that unquiet dream,
        Did one of stateliest aspect beam;
        Whose brow thought's kingly impress bore,
        Whose soul thrilled to "Excelsior!"
 
        Though but one moment o'er my way
        Did the bright form beside me stay;
        In that pale brow and speaking eye,
        Methought I saw my Destiny!
 
        And as, far up the heaven-crowned height,
        Thou seem'dst to vanish from my sight;
        Thine image yet beside me stood,
        And filled the voiceless solitude.
 
        No longer drear that mountain waste.
        For o'er its snows thy steps had passed;
        No longer dread, in upper air,
        That mountain's crest, for thou wert there!