Poems (Kimball)/The Home among the Hills
THE HOME AMONG THE HILLS.
MIDWAY between these towering hills One lonely human dwelling; The circling acres, culture swept, Its little history telling!
On either hand the meadow land Makes fair the mountain spaces With golden reach of buttercups And silver drift of daisies.
Behind, the massive forest wall Before, the river running; And close about the little cot The signs of human cunning:
The signs so homely and so sweet That draw us to each other, And make the daily life of man Familiar to his brother.
We know the hand at early morn That cottage hearth-fire kindling; We watched the dropping of this corn We wait its purple spindling!
A part have we in all the toils Of these our mountain neighbors; A portion in the precious gain Heaven winnows from their labors.
We taste their trials, share their feasts, And with a passing wonder We linger even while we go, Their choice, their lot to ponder.
Amid the grandeur and the gloom On every hand abiding, A flower of human blossoming This little home is hiding.
What tender wind of Providence The small seed hither drifted Where yet these shadows vast may fall On village spires uplifted?
Less awful seem those hills august, Less lone the valley's glooming, Since in this wilderness the rose Of human life is blooming!