Blue in the west the mountain stands,
And through the long twilight
Vickery sits with folded hands,
And Vickery-s eyes are bright.

Bright, for he knows what no man else
On earth as yet may know:
There-s a golden word that he never tells,
And a gift that he will not show.

He dreams of honor and wealth and fame,
He smiles, and well he may;
For to Vickery once a sick man came
Who did not go away.

The day before the day to be,
-Vickery,� said the guest,
-You know as you live what-s left of me-
And you shall know the rest.

-You know as you live that I have come
To this we call the end.
No doubt you have found me troublesome,
But you-ve also found a friend;

-For we shall give and you shall take
The gold that is in view;
The mountain there and I shall make
A golden man of you.

-And you shall leave a friend behind
Who neither frets nor feels;
And you shall move among your kind
With hundreds at your heels.

-Now this that I have written here
Tells all that need be told;
So, Vickery, take the way that-s clear.
And be a man of gold.�

Vickery turned his eyes again
To the far mountain-side,
And wept a tear for worthy men
Defeated and defied.

Since then a crafty score of years
Have come, and they have gone;
But Vickery counts no lost arrears:
He lingers and lives on.

Blue in the west the mountain stands,
Familiar as a face.
Blue, but Vickery knows what sands
Are golden at its base.

He dreams and lives upon the day
When he shall walk with kings.
Vickery smiles-and well he may.
The life-caged linnet sings.

Vickery thinks the time will come
To go for what is his;
But hovering, unseen hands at home
Will hold him where he is.

There-s a golden word that he never tells
And a gift that he will not show.
All to be given to some one else-
And Vickery not to know.