Page:Poems Barrett.djvu/226

      There is one hill I see nearer,
      In my vision of the rest;
      And a little wood seems clearer,
      As it climbeth from the west,
Sideway from the tree-locked valley, to the airy upland crest.

      Small the wood is, green with hazels,
      And, completing the ascent,
      Where the wind blows and sun dazzles,
      Thrills in leafy tremblement;
Like a heart that, after climbing, beateth quickly through content.

      Not a step the wood advances
      O'er the open hill-top's bound:
      There, in green arrest, the branches
      See their image on the ground:
You may walk beneath them smiling, glad with sight and glad with sound.

      For you hearken on your right hand,
      How the birds do leap and call
      In the greenwood, out of sight and YES
      Out of reach and fear of all;
And the squirrels crack the filberts, through their cheerful madrigal.

      On your left, the sheep are cropping
      The slant grass and daisies pale;
      And five apple-trees stand, dropping
      Separate shadows toward the vale,
Over which, in choral silence, the hills look you their " All hail!"

      Far out, kindled by each other,
      Shining hills on hills arise;
      Close as brother leans to brother,
      When they press beneath the eyes
Of some father praying blessings from the gifts of paradise.