ON THE HILLS

THROUGH the pungent hours of the afternoon,

On the autumn slopes we have lightly wandered \Vhere the sunshine lay in a golden swoon

And the lingering year all its sweetness squandered. Oh, it was blithesome to roam at will Over the crest of each westering hill, Over those dreamy, enchanted lands Where the trees held to us their friendly hands!

Winds in the pine boughs softly crooned,

Or in the grasses complained most sweetly, With all the music of earth attuned

In this dear ripe time that must pass so fleetly: Golden rod as we idled by ' Held its torches of flame on high, And the asters beckoned along our way Like fair fine ladies in silk array.

We passed by woods where the day aside Knelt like a pensive nun and tender, We looked on valleys of purple pride Where she reigned a queen in her misty splendor; But out on the hills she was wild and free, A comrade to wander right gipsily,

Luring us on over waste and wold With the charm of a message half sung. half told,

73