Crumpled and bowed, Lone in the crowd,Let him clear out for his betters! What doth it serve Once he had nerve,Once too a tincture of letters: --
Quoted his Greek Scaling some peakRight from the Bergschrund below it, Airing his wits There on the Spitz,Climber and scholar and poet?
Alps and their height. Life and its light,Sink into shadow and valley; Lowly at last, Each crevasse past,Wait for the home-bound galley!
