Classic Poem

On the mountain's blind and rugged ridge
and dizzy pinnacle its throne is set;
its crown is laurel and its canopy
the clouds and the cerulean firmament.

Its fearful grasp is sceptered haughtily
with a green boulder of enormous mass;
the hills are subject to its majesty,
the far-flung valley is its empire.

It pours upon its awesome countenance,
its lofty port and dreadful attitude,
dark in the burnished crystal of the mere;

and its most sweet and pleasant music is
the flashing thunder and the desolate
screaming of the savage towering eagle.