Resurgam

From depth to height, from height to loftier height,

The climber sets his foot and sets his face,

Tracks lingering sunbeams to their halting-place,

And counts the last pulsations of the light.

Strenuous thro' day and unsurprised by night

He runs a race with Time, and wins the race,

Emptied and stripped of all save only Grace,

Will, Love,--a threefold panoply of might.

Darkness descends for light he toiled to seek;

He stumbles on the darkened mountain-head,

Left breathless in the unbreathable thin air,

Made freeman of the living and the dead,--

He wots not he has topped the topmost peak,

But the returning sun will find him there.