SOLITUDE
I KNOW a little patch of mountain ground. Low-settled by itself; and Moosilauke Stands boldly in the west but never sees Its little group of buildings and the elm Close by the door. And farther in the north, Bearing his sun-scarred summit proudly forth, Stands noble Lafayette; he looks abroad Across the sunny hamlet where the meadows Shine with a softer green, yet scarcely knows This low gray dwelling and beside the door Its ancient elm-tree; yet do Lafayette And Moosilauke the mountain and the deep, Aspiring hills feel through their silent hearts