The Secret Splendour

You love frail hamlets sunk amid soft green—

 I long for the great poignance, the hard hue

Of mountains plucking up to the Unseen

All valleyed shimmers breaking gently through

The small throbs of your unadventurous heart.

 Height on dense height is blindness unto you—

Faced by king-crags you hurry to depart

With peevish cry: "Oh how they block my view!"

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