Classic Poem

I THINK of mountains
In lonely shapelessness
Under the twilight
Of far countries.

I think of the drop
Of precipices
Through deathly thousands
Of feet of darkness.

I think of the torrents
That shatter the silence
With tortured turbulence
Far down in them.

Yes, and of glooms,
Of granite chasms,
Where even God
Would be lonely!

And then I moan
For never a spot
Has earth as lonely
As is my heart!

Never a torrent,
Torturing silence,
Cuts through granite,
As grief through me!

Never a gulf
Is filled with terror,
As is remembrance
That you are dead!