The mountains raise their heads and feel the gentleness of Heaven on their brow. They ponder how most sweet it is, unreal, so distant from the touch of earthly ‘now’.
Pure as the naked snow that lines their breast, for transient sorrows cannot linger here, and so the grandeur rises to the test; To banish every vestige of a tear.
I wandered lonely, once, and could not find a hint of inspiration on a theme; Until a violet, by a slope inclined, brought fresh and gentle solace to my dream.
For in these hills, immensely hewed from stone, The Lord looked down and sowed a tiny flower. One isolated gem to call His own, a symbol of Humility and Power.
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