The Top of a Hill by Mabel Forrest

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If we could find the top of a hill
   From which, miles off one sees the sea, 
A bald-topped mountain, very still,  
   The bushes girded to its knee;
And yet, clean, blue, and everywhere 
The sunny miles of smokeless air! 

If we could find a path that went
   Between the bushes on the grade,
Hot grasses whispering their content 
   With only drifting cloud for shade;
Where one pale gleam on distant downs 
Remained the only hint of towns.

If we could find an April day
   The birds had roused from starry sleep, 
A flight of butterflies that sway
   Like wind-blown petals up the steep -- 
Alone ... with only hills and sky,
We might touch God as he went by!

First published in The Australasian, 17 July 1920

Author reference sites: AustlitAustralian Dictionary of Biography

See also

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This page contains a single entry by Perry Middlemiss published on July 17, 2014 7:30 AM.

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