|Thirty-seven sings of mountain glory,
Having settled down to what will be.
In dreams there is a tincture of regret
Regarding hopes that haven't happened yet,
The residue of what was lost at sea.
Yet thirty-seven knows quite well that story.
Sing, then, of mountains--wind-shaped, root-sheared, hoary,
Copyright by Nicholas Gordon. Free for personal or non-commercial use.