Poems (Jackson)/Return to the Hills
RETURN TO THE HILLS.
IKE a music of triumph and joy Sounds the roll of the wheels,And the breath of the engine laughs out In loud chuckles and peals,Like the laugh of a man that is glad Coming homeward at night;I lean out of the window and nod To the left and the right,To my friends in the fields and the woods; Not a face do I miss;The sweet asters and browned golden-rod, And that stray clematis,Of all vagabonds dearest and best, In most seedy estate; I am sure they all recognize me; If I only could wait,I should hear all the welcome which now In their faces I read,"O true lover of us and our kin, We all bid thee God speed!"O my mountains, no wisdom can teach Me to think that ye careNothing more for my steps than the rest, Or that they can have shareSuch as mine in your royal crown-lands, Unencumbered of fee;In your temples with altars unhewn, Where redemption is free;In your houses of treasure, which gold Cannot buy if it seek;And your oracles, mystic with words, Which men lose if they speak!
Ah! with boldness of lovers who wed I make haste to your feet,And as constant as lovers who die, My surrender repeat;And I take as the right of my love, And I keep as its sign,An ineffable joy in each sense And new strength as from wine,A seal for all purpose and hope, And a pledge of full light,Like a pillar of cloud for my day, And of fire for my night.