DUKE of the high places, who wears no crown of snow, and is a lord of stone alone. He appeareth as a great rounded head of bare granite, sheared clean down one face as though half of him had been struck away and carried off, the cut side falling sheer while the curved side rises whole. He is weathered, though never worn soft; his edges are still sharp, and he lords over the valley by his mass and by the violence done unto him. His office is to show the body of the Work cloven in two, the half that remains and the half that is gone, and to stand sharp against a sky the working has turned to hard blue. The blood-red wood, his realm, rises to his feet and climbs a little way up the broken face, but the granite itself takes no color; it has no life to give, only the pale gray truth of stone.
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