These were your hills, these your foggy coves
Beneath the mountain’s shadowing arms
Lifting skyward where white moonlight roves
Silent as fox feet.
These were sheltering ridges
Against long waiting, against the heart’s alarms,
Against the lengthening agony of an anxious day.
Call out of yesterday, speak to the voiceless hills
Within your heart: call to the emptiness of level earth
To lift its shoulders upward until it fills
The vast untended acres of the blossoming sky,
Until the poplars stand at angles on the mountain’s girth
And throw a mellow shade to cool a throbbing brow.