This is that hill of awe
That Persian Sindbad saw,-
The mount magnetic;
And on its seaward face,
Scattered along its base,
The wrecks prophetic.
Here come the argosies
Blown by each idle breeze,
To and fro shifting;
Yet to the hill of Fate
All drawing, soon or late,-
Day by day drifting;
Drifting forever here
Barks that for many a year
Braved wind and weather;
Shallops but yesterday
Launched on yon shining bay,-
Drawn all together.
This is the end of all:
Sun thyself by the wall,
O poorer Hindbad!
Envy not Sindbad's fame:
Here come alike the same
Hindbad and Sindbad.
Lone Mountain
Bret Harte
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Poem topics: fate, sun, together, weather, wind, forever, wall, face, year, yesterday, shining, Valentine's Day, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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