Author Emily Dickinson The mountains grow unnoticed, Their purple figures rise Without attempt, exhaustion, Assistance or applause. In their eternal faces The sun with broad delight Looks long — and last — and golden, For fellowship at night. Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 Average: 2.5 (6 votes) Rate Log in or register to post comments