From dim aerial depths, a silver light
Stole forth, and formed, and soared against the sky,
A domelike summit, gloriously bright,

The adoration of the gazing eye,
Mont Blanc. O beautiful beyond all dream,
That thou for our great longing shouldst put by

Thy curtains woven soft with mist, and gleam
In such a splendor! Queen of Air, are those
Lustres miraculously white, supreme

In sparkling radiance on the blue repose
Of heaven, thy diamond-crusted veils, thy frore,
Virginal vesture of eternal snows?

We have beheld the vision. Evermore
Must our poor life be nobler than before.