From depth to height, from height to loftier height,
         The climber sets his foot and sets his face,
         Tracks lingering sunbeams to their halting-place,
And counts the last pulsations of the light.
Strenuous thro' day and unsurprised by night
         He runs a race with Time, and wins the race,
         Emptied and stripped of all save only Grace,
Will, Love,--a threefold panoply of might.
Darkness descends for light he toiled to seek;
         He stumbles on the darkened mountain-head,
                 Left breathless in the unbreathable thin air,
         Made freeman of the living and the dead,--
He wots not he has topped the topmost peak,
                 But the returning sun will find him there.