They walked towards a trigonometrical point
along a ridge; as they approached,
a brace
of startled ravens suddenly rose in joint
defensive chorus for
their living-space.
The walkers laughed companionably; then one
who filled the other's heart with
clear delight
said, pointing up at Snowdon, 'Look, the sun
has not yet
thawed the snow; no, there, that white-
The other looked; the abrasive poignancy
of the ravens' cries, their dark
extended wings
spoke of no parting, and he did not see
the decay
inherent in contingent things.