Majestic hills! I love thy purple range,
I love thee now, and thou wilt never change.
I love thee now, and thou wilt never change.
Here is the barn,—Ah! what a place to play
When mow and loft are filled with new-mown hay,
And all the air is sweet with clover scent—
To climb the beams and jump from bent to bent,
Or search the hay-mows for a stolen nest;
Of all the play-rooms known this is the best.
And when I gaze adown yon winding lane,
My age departs and youth comes back again.
I see a barefoot boy in homely dress,
The prince of that rich kingdom, happiness,
A brimless palmleaf is his regal crown,
His ruddy cheeks are tinged with russet brown,
His sunny face could never wear a cloud,
No rich estates could make him half so proud,
His scepter is a leafless maple browse,
His Majesty is driving home the cows.
When mow and loft are filled with new-mown hay,
And all the air is sweet with clover scent—
To climb the beams and jump from bent to bent,
Or search the hay-mows for a stolen nest;
Of all the play-rooms known this is the best.
And when I gaze adown yon winding lane,
My age departs and youth comes back again.
I see a barefoot boy in homely dress,
The prince of that rich kingdom, happiness,
A brimless palmleaf is his regal crown,
His ruddy cheeks are tinged with russet brown,
His sunny face could never wear a cloud,
No rich estates could make him half so proud,
His scepter is a leafless maple browse,
His Majesty is driving home the cows.
How peaceful is yon meadows' stretch of green,
In sunset light, the autumn hills between,
Deep down beneath the grass, by reed and rock
The little brook sings to the meadow lark,
Right merrily he sings the livelong day
To cheer the weary farmer with his lay.
What pain would fill his heart if father knew
That witch-grass claimed the fields where clover grew,
In sunset light, the autumn hills between,
Deep down beneath the grass, by reed and rock
The little brook sings to the meadow lark,
Right merrily he sings the livelong day
To cheer the weary farmer with his lay.
What pain would fill his heart if father knew
That witch-grass claimed the fields where clover grew,
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