|
On Mountains
 Not awed by the roll of aeons you tower
Sublime and still in rocky anchor dropped
Graces of diverse plumes circle and hover
Over your crown that fades out when mist-capped
Only to beam as the eclipsing haze
Light; nothing of man's power can assail you.
Stoic or sentinel you can outface
All adverse blasts the ambient air can brew.
In you the strength to bear is deep-rooted
The sap of the patient earth that feeds your veins
The gale in rage, the coiling main in rout,
Never can bowl you out of your brooding vein
No vain grandeur are you, standing serene,
All species make hay while your bosom greens
-By G. Viswanathan
From: To our first granddaughter Pratibha and other poems
Profile
of the author
|
