From the Top of the World

Come to me at the top of the world,
O Mine, before the years spill
Our rare love into Time’s cup
And give our will to Time’s will.

My wide basin is full of starlight,
My moon is lighted with new fire,
I have lit every sun in the firmament
With the hurting flame of my desire.

The worms there in the valley
Die—to forget death!
But here at the top of the world
I laugh under my breath.

There is pain here, and tears,
Bitter, terrible tears;
But the joys have warm mouth, and madness
Dances downwards with the years.

Come to me at the top of the world,
O Mine. The valley is deep,
The valley is full of the dying,
And with those that sleep.

But here wonderful winds blow
And the pines sing one song.
Come to me at the top of the world,
Come soon. I have waited too long.

From On a Grey Thread (Will Ransom, 1923) by Elsa Gidlow. This poem is in the public domain.