Through the pungent hours of the afternoon, <br />On the autumn slopes we have lightly wandered <br />Where the sunshine lay in a golden swoon <br />And the lingering year all its sweetness squandered. <br />Oh, it was blithesome to roam at will <br />Over the crest of each westering hill, <br />Over those dreamy, enchanted lands <br />Where the trees held to us their friendly hands! <br /> <br />Winds in the pine boughs softly crooned, <br />Or in the grasses complained most sweetly, <br />With all the music of earth attuned <br />In this dear ripe time that must pass so fleetly: <br />Golden rod as we idled by <br />Held its torches of flame on high, <br />And the asters beckoned along our way <br />Like fair fine ladies in silk array. <br /> <br />We passed by woods where the day aside <br />Knelt like a pensive nun and tender, <br />We looked on valleys of purple pride <br />Where she reigned a queen in her misty splendor; <br />But out on the hills she was wild and free, <br />A comrade to wander right gipsily, <br />Luring us on over waste and wold <br />With the charm of a message half sung, half told, <br /> <br />And now, when far in the shining west <br />She has dropped her flowers on the sunset meadow, <br />We turn away from our witching quest <br />To the kindly starshine and gathering shadow; <br />Filled to the lips of our souls are we <br />With the beauty given so lavishly, <br />And hand in hand with the night we come <br />Back to the light and the hearth of home.<br /><br />Lucy Maud Montgomery<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/on-the-hills/
