HILLS
Reading edition
AS I go inland Lo! my heart drooping As a bird’s in the grove when the shadow falls swooping Of the hawk’s wing down from a cloudless sky. For the hills creep together, Murmuring, conspiring; Solitude, poverty, sorrow desiring For men that are born to dream and to die. A prison land-locked, A grave for the living, And the ancient warders unsleeping, unforgiving, Cordon after cordon, massing behind me. I am in peril. I have left the sea.
REGINALD HARRIS (C. C. C.)