Far up the crag, 'twixt sea and sky,⁠
Where winds tempestuous, blowing by,
⁠Leave giant boulders swept and bare:
⁠Where frequent lightnings fitful flare,
And petrels sound their stormy cry,—

I found a bluebell, sweet and shy,
Lifting its head complacently,
⁠As guarded by the tenderest care—
⁠⁠Far up the crag.

And often now, when fear draws nigh,
In thought I stand 'twixt sea and sky,
​⁠And as of old, in my despair,
⁠I bless the Power that set it there—
That tiny thing with courage high,
⁠⁠Far up the crag!