The Hills by Kathleen Dalziel

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Take me to the hills again,
   Back where I belong;
Let me hear the wind's refrain
   And the river's song,
Hear the runnels in the rain
   When the nights are long;

Dream by morning waters cool,
   Fringed with green morasses,
Swaying reed and amber pool
   When October passes
Golden-eyed and beautiful
   Through the feathery grasses.

Not for me the blue allure
   Of the wide sea-lanes,
Creaming reef or shingled shore,
   White steeds' flying manes;
Where I left my heart of yore
   Still my heart remains.

Not for me  the jostling whirl,
   Cold and careless faces.
Where the dusty breezes swirl
   Round the market places;
Better far the glens of pearl
   That the cloud embraces.

I could never watch the rose,
   Jade and jasper render
Radiance to the evening's close
   Veiled with purples tender
With the houses, rows on rows,
   Shutting out the splendor.

First published in The Bulletin, 14 October 1926

Author reference site: Austlit

See also.

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This page contains a single entry by Perry Middlemiss published on October 14, 2014 7:29 AM.

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