Explore "To Mrs. Macmarland" by Robert Louis Stevenson on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
IN Schnee der Alpen-so it runs / To those divine accords-and here / We dwell in Alpine snows and suns, / A motley crew, for half the year: / A motley crew, we dwell to taste- / A shivering band in hope and fear- / That sun upon the snowy waste, / That Alpine ether cold and clear.
Up from the laboured plains, and up / From low sea-levels, we arise / To drink of that diviner cup / The rarer air, the clearer skies; / For, as the great, old, godly King / From mankind's turbid valley cries, / So all we mountain-lovers sing: / I to the hills will lift mine eyes.