Classic Poem

A glorious triumph. On that day of days
When, standing on the summit's utmost edge
Of my first mountain--top, I viewed the maze
Which I had travelled upwards, ledge on ledge,
And all that wilderness of rock and plain
Rolled at my feet, and, when with heel fast set
On Nature's neck, I knew the giant slain,
My thrall, my prisoner, on the parapet,
I was transfigured. Slowly in me rose
The throb of courage as a sense new born.
``Even Man,'' I cried, ``Man's self, my foe of foes,
The phantom of my fears, shall feel my scorn
Yet in a nobler war.'' And trembling then
I seemed to stand, I too, a man with men.