In summer dusk the valley lies 
With far-flung shadow veil; 
A cloud-sea laps the precipice 
Before the evening gale: 
The welter of the cloud-waves grey 
Cuts off from keenest sight 
The glacier, looking out by day 
O'er all the district, far away, 
And crowned with golden light. 

But o'er the smouldering cloud-wrack's flow, 
Where gold and amber kiss, 
Stands up the archipelago, 
A home of shining peace. 
The mountain eagle seems to sail 
A ship far seen at even; 
And over all a serried pale 
Of peaks, like giants ranked in mail, 
Fronts westward threatening heaven. 

But look, a steading nestles, close 
Beneath the ice-fields bound, 
Where purple cliffs and glittering snows 
The quiet home surround. 
Here place and people seem to be 
A world apart, alone; -- 
Cut off from men by spate and scree 
It has a heaven more broad, more free, 
A sunshine all its own. 

Look: mute the saeter-maiden stays, 
Half shadow, half aflame; 
The deep, still vision of her gaze 
Was never word to name. 
She names it not herself, nor knows 
What goal my be its will; 
While cow-bells chime and alp-horn blows 
It bears her where the sunset glows, 
Or, maybe, further still. 

Too brief, thy life on highland wolds 
Where close the glaciers jut; 
Too soon the snowstorm's cloak enfolds 
Stone byre and pine-log hut. 
Then wilt thou ply with hearth ablaze 
The winter's well-worn tasks; -- 
But spin thy wool with cheerful face: 
One sunset in the mountain pays 
For all their winter asks.