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1863–1952

MONT BRÉVENT

George Santayana

O dweller in the valley, lift thine eyes To where, above the drift of cloud, the stone Endures in silence, and to God alone Upturns its furrowed visage, and is wise.

There yet is being, far from all that dies, And beauty where no mortal maketh moan, Where larger planets swim the liquid zone, And wider spaces stretch to calmer skies.

Only a little way above the plain Is snow eternal. Round the mountain's knees Hovers the fury of the wind and rain. Look up, and teach thy noble heart to cease

From endless labour. There is perfect peace Only a little way above thy pain.

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MONT BRÉVENT · George Santayana · Poetry Cove