4644402Poems — Pictures from the Blue HillsClara L. Bell
PICTURES FROM THEBLUE HILLS.
O Fair Blue hills:My heart with rapture thrillsWhen e'er I gaze upon thee!May never woodman's axeProfane thy sacred trees.Born on thy land, the first the[1]Weary mariner sees!On one side the winding river.Quite near by are Milton's Mills,While the houses dotted in betweenA beauteous landscape fills.An old [2]schoolhouse, its ancient wallsWhere many a name is seen,Reminding how, in days gone by,Many pupils there had been:Here, too, stands a sweet-briar bushIn summer with roses crowned,Its blossoms, pleasing to the eye,Shed a sweet perfume around.I see some verdant pasturesAnd farms with products rank,A stone-arched bridge, a fountain,And meadows green and dank.But now the night is falling,I see thee as in a maze,A star in the azure skyGrows brighter as I gaze.I hear in the evening twilightSweet chimes of a distant bell.[3]And I leave thee, O Hills! in thy grandeur,To others thy story to tell.
