Helm Crag

Helm Crag, a summit bold and high,
That overlooks the vale,
Stands gazing at the passing sky,
And hears the whistling gale.

A rugged crown, it wears in state,
A king of hills around,
And seems to watch, and patiently wait,
For what may soon be found.

Perhaps a storm, perhaps a calm,
Perhaps a summer's day,
It stands unmoved, through every qualm,
And watches, come what may.