When I had told my story, and had read With kindling pride my praises in her eyes, She placed her soft hand on my brow, and said: "My Paul has climbed the noblest mountain height In all his little world, and gazed on scenes As beautiful as rest beneath the sun. I trust he will remember all his life That to his best achievement, and the spot Nearest to heaven his youthful feet have trod, He has been guided by a guileless lamb. It is an omen which his mother's heart Will treasure with her jewels." When the sun Of the long summer day hung but an hour Above his setting, and the cool West Wind Bore from the purpling hills his benison, The farewell courtesies of love were given, And we set forth for home. Not far we fared-- The river left behind--when, looking back, I saw the mountain in the searching light Of the low sun. Surcharged with youthful pride In my adventure, I can ne'er forget The disappointment and chagrin which fell Upon me; for a change had passed. The steep Which in the morning sprang to kiss the sun, Had left the scene; and in its place I saw A shrunken pile, whose paths my steps had climbed. Whose proudest height my humble feet had trod. Its grand impossibilities and all Its store of marvels and of mysteries Were flown away, and would not be recalled. The mountain's might had entered into me; And, from that fruitful hour, whatever scene Nature revealed to me, she never caught My spirit humbled by surprise. My thought Built higher mountains than I ever found; Poured wilder cataracts than I ever saw; Drove grander storms than ever swept the sky; Pushed into loftier heavens and lower hells Than the abysmal reach of light and dark; And entertained me with diviner feasts Than ever met the appetite of sense, And poured me wine of choicer vintages Than fire the hearts of kings. The frolic-flame Which in the morning kindled in my veins Had died away; and at my mother's side I walked in quiet mood, and gravely spoke Of the great future. With a tender quest My mother probed my secret wish, and heard, With silence new and strange respectfulness, The revelation of my plans. I felt In her benign attention to my words; In her suggestions, clothed with gracious phrase To win my judgment; and in all those shades Of mien and manner which a mother's love Inspires so quickly when the form it nursed Becomes a staff in its caressing hand, She had made space for me, and placed her life In new relations to my own. I knew That she who through my span of tender years Had counselled me, had given me privilege Within her councils; and the moment came I learned that in the converse of that hour, The appetency of maternity For manhood in its offspring, had laid hold Of the fresh growth in me, and feasted well Its gentle passion.