THE GREEN HILL-SIDE.
The town-born child had heard of streams, of woods and giant trees,
Of golden sunshine on the sward, and perfume on the breeze;
And visions floated round me, that a city could not hide,
Of cottages and valleys, and a Green Hill-side.
Of golden sunshine on the sward, and perfume on the breeze;
And visions floated round me, that a city could not hide,
Of cottages and valleys, and a Green Hill-side.
Oh! how my young wish coveted a distant, fairy land!
I long'd to grasp the wild flowers, that I read of, in my hand;
I long'd to see the ringdove's nest, and craved to hear the tones
Of the sheep-bell on the mountains, and the brooklet on the stones;
And if by chance a butterfly came flitting through the street,
The thought to chase its pretty wings ne'er stirred my tiny feet;
But I wish'd that it would take me on its journey far and wide,
And let me share its home-place by some Green Hill-side.
I long'd to grasp the wild flowers, that I read of, in my hand;
I long'd to see the ringdove's nest, and craved to hear the tones
Of the sheep-bell on the mountains, and the brooklet on the stones;
And if by chance a butterfly came flitting through the street,
The thought to chase its pretty wings ne'er stirred my tiny feet;
But I wish'd that it would take me on its journey far and wide,
And let me share its home-place by some Green Hill-side.
The wondrous tales of diamond mines, of silver and of gold—
The stories of kings' palaces, that elder playmates told—
Not all the treasures of the earth, nor pearl-drops of the sea,
Could serve to form the Paradise so coveted by me;
But when they spoke of shady lanes, and woods where they had been,
Of crimson foxgloves they had pull'd, and bright fields they had seen;
Then, then, uprose the eager voice that ever loudly cried,
"'Tis these I love! Oh! give to me the Green Hill-side."
The stories of kings' palaces, that elder playmates told—
Not all the treasures of the earth, nor pearl-drops of the sea,
Could serve to form the Paradise so coveted by me;
But when they spoke of shady lanes, and woods where they had been,
Of crimson foxgloves they had pull'd, and bright fields they had seen;
Then, then, uprose the eager voice that ever loudly cried,
"'Tis these I love! Oh! give to me the Green Hill-side."
It was a deep, an inborn love, and Fate at last was kind;
It gave me all my childish soul had ever hoped to find;
Fresh meadows and fair valleys, where a pebbled stream ran through,
Where bleating flocks were herded, and the brake and hawthorn grew.
I trod the open land of Joy my passion long had sought;
With ecstasy too glad for words, almost too wild for thought;
Till lulled in peaceful happiness, my song, with gushing tide,
Ran chiming with the mill-stream by the Green Hill-side.
It gave me all my childish soul had ever hoped to find;
Fresh meadows and fair valleys, where a pebbled stream ran through,
Where bleating flocks were herded, and the brake and hawthorn grew.
I trod the open land of Joy my passion long had sought;
With ecstasy too glad for words, almost too wild for thought;
Till lulled in peaceful happiness, my song, with gushing tide,
Ran chiming with the mill-stream by the Green Hill-side.
That cottage with its walls so white, and gabled roof so quaint,
Oh! was it not a chosen thing for artists' hands to paint?
With casement windows, where the vine festoon'd the angled panes;
And trellised porch, where woodbine wove its aromatic chains.
Ah! Memory yet keeps the spot with fond and holy care;
I know the shape of every branch that flung its shadow there;
Oh! was it not a chosen thing for artists' hands to paint?
With casement windows, where the vine festoon'd the angled panes;
And trellised porch, where woodbine wove its aromatic chains.
Ah! Memory yet keeps the spot with fond and holy care;
I know the shape of every branch that flung its shadow there;
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