Calligraphy for Solo Cello
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Peak upon peak less than a foot from the sky,
Where withered pines hang inverted from sheer cliffs,
Where cataracts and roaring currents make noisy clamour,
Dashing upon rocks, a thunderclap from ten thousand glens.
An impregnable place like this -
I sigh and ask why should anyone come here from
far away? |
