In The Heart Of The Hills

In the warm blue heart of the hills My beautiful, beautiful one Sleeps where he laid him down Before the journey was done.

All the long summer day The ghosts of noon draw nigh, And the tremulous aspens hear The footing of winds go by.

Down to the gates of the sea, Out of the gates of the west, Journeys the whispering river Before the place of his rest.

The road he loved to follow When June came by his door, Out through the dim blue haze Leads, but allures no more.

The trailing shadows of clouds Steal from the slopes and are gone; The myriad life in the grass Stirs, but he slumbers on;

The inland wandering tern Skreel as they forage and fly; His loons on the lonely reach Utter their querulous cry;

Over the floating lilies A dragon-fly tacks and steers; Far in the depth of the blue A martin settles and veers;

To every roadside thistle A gold-brown butterfly clings; But he no more companions All the dear vagrant things.

The strong red journeying sun, The pale and wandering rain, Will roam on the hills forever And find him never again.

Then twilight falls with the touch Of a hand that soothes and stills, And a swamp-robin sings into light The lone white star of the hills.

Alone in the dusk he sings, And a burden of sorrow and wrong Is lifted up from the earth And carried away in his song.

Alone in the dusk he sings, And the joy of another day Is folded in peace and borne On the drift of years away.

But there in the heart of the hills My beautiful weary one Sleeps where he laid him down; And the large sweet night is begun.