A sun-flash on his mounting wing, br A wild note soaring high— br The lark is up, the minstrel king, br The poet of the sky. br To thrill, to sing of Youth and Spring br Those golden numbers flowed. br What message then br Has he for men br Who tread the long grey road? br Knee-deep in grass the cattle stand, br The river winds along, br And chants through sunny meadow land br A low mysterious song. br Ah! sunlit vale and lover’s tale br Youth’s day is quickly gone— br Past current-beat br And meadow-sweet br The grey road stretches on! br br Grim bastions frowning down below— br And rising, tier on tier, br Sublime, and crowned with ageless snow br The awful peaks appear. br The heights belong unto the strong br Who scale, by crags untried, br The great cliffs face— br But at its base br The grey road turns aside! br br No hope in Heaven, no minstrel strain, br No vales where summer shone br A leaden sky, a silent plain, br The grey road stretching on.