My heart leaps up when I behold
A rainbow in the sky.
So was it when my life began;
So is it now I am a man;
So be it when I grow old,
Or let me die!
The Child is father of the Man;
And I could wish my days to be
Bound each to each by natural piety.
In 1790, the English poet William’s Wordsworth visited the Alps, hiking Swiss mountain passes into Italy, and farther into France. He expressed his awe for the spectacular scenery of the Alps in a collection of poems, yet the beauty of the high mountains, and his veneration of the untamed Alpine Nature can be found in the entirety of his works.
So fair, so sweet, withal so sensitive,
Would that the little Flowers were born to live,
Conscious of half the pleasure which they give;
How clear, how keen, how marvellously bright
The effluence from yon distant mountain’s head,
Which, strewn with snow smooth as the sky can shed,
Shines like another sun–on mortal sight
Praised be the Rivers, from their mountain springs
Shouting to Freedom, “Plant thy banners here!”
To harassed Piety, “Dismiss thy fear,
And in our caverns smooth thy ruffled wings!
More than 200 years later, while the world has changed completely, the Alps are still as untamed and aweinspiring.
