Poems (Jackson)/Return to the Hills

by Helen Hunt Jackson

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 care
Nothing more for my steps than the rest,
 Or that they can have share
Such 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.