ON THE GORGEOUS HILLS OF MORNING
On the gorgeous hills of morning
A sudden piping of birds,
A piping of all the forest, high and merry and clear,
I lay in my tent and listened;
I lay and heard them long,
In the dark of the moonlit morning,
The birds of the night at song.
I lay and listened and heard them
Sing ere the day was begun;
Sing and sink into
Silence one by one.
I lay in my bed and looked—
Paler than starlight or lightning
A glimmer ...
In the highlands in the country places
Where the old plain men have rosy faces,
And the young fair lasses
Quiet eyes,
Light and heat begin, begin and strengthen,
And the shadows turn and shrink and lengthen,
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