He stood alone on Fame's high mountain top,
His hands at rest, his forehead bound with bay;
And yet he watched with eyes unsatisfied
The downward winding way.

The great procession of the stars went by
Far overhead, beyond the mountain's rim,
But the unconquered worlds of time and space,
As nothing were to him.

There from his vantage ground, so still and high,
He watched the storm clouds when they rolled below,
And felt the wind mount up to where he stood
Amid eternal snow.

And sometimes in the valleys and the plains
He saw the little children at their play;
In cottage homes he saw the candle-light
Gleam out at close of day.

But he and loneliness kept feast and fast,
The while with weary eyes, by night and day;
They watched the path that led to common things--
The downward winding way.

''Twas there,' he said, 'that gladness passed me by,
In yonder valley, where I sought the truth;
And there, a few leagues up the rocky slope,
I said good-bye to Youth.

'There, where the pine trees catch the sun's last gold,
Love reached its hands to me and bade me stop;
Oh, madness of the ones who climb,' he said,
'Up to the mountain top!'