When I fail to think of You
(And, sad to say, times more than few)
Because of all I need to do
(Or think I do - that may be true)

I hie me to the clear, cold air
At heights where oxygen is rare
Bluer skies and brighter sun; where
One can discard life’s every care.

And on the mountaintop I see
My life with greater clarity.
I feel unfettered; now am free
To be the man I strive to be.

Why to the mountains do I go?
Whether there be snow or no?
Although the reasons may not show
I’m moved by mountains; this I know.