Promised Land

Dispart the frost-white boughs, and lo!
The world of winter, mile on mile:
Wind-wavy seas of unplumbed snow,
Then endless peaks and one defile.

The high elect would fear to cross
Those wastes unconquerable, ideal;
There lies your path; count all as loss,
Cast armour by, lay down your steel:

For you shall walk the sheer gulf's brink,
Through glass-blue caves all brittle spars
And flaws. Thereafter you shall sink,
Snow-blind in slush, beneath the stars.