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.