noon
To think of an ant walking on this ! Here and there lie stones , half-covered with moss , not because they have fallen there , but because this is their home , and they have lived here long . This is peerless . When I reach the top and look back , it is high noon . Far away on another peak walks one of the cows of the cotters , a strange little cow with red and white flanks . A crow sits on a high cliff above me and caws down at me in a voice like an iron rasp scraping against the stone . A warm thrill runs through me , and I feel , as I have done in the woods so many times before , that someone has just been here , and has stepped to one side .