Through all the pleasant meadow-side The grass grew shoulder-high, Till the shining scythes went far and wide And cut it down to dry. Those green and sweetly smelling crops They led the waggons home; And they piled them here in mountain tops For mountaineers to roam. Here is Mount Clear, Mount Rusty-Nail, Mount Eagle and Mount High;-- The mice that in these mountains dwell, No happier are than I! Oh, what a joy to clamber there, Oh, what a place for play, With the sweet, the dim, the dusty air, The happy hills of hay! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE HAYMAKER'S SONG by ALFRED AUSTIN EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 22. 'TIS HONOURABLE TO BE LOVE'S MARTYR by PHILIP AYRES FLOATING HEARTS by GEORGE BRADFORD BARTLETT CHORUS OF A SONG THAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN WRITTEN BY ALBERT CHEVALIER by HENRY MAXIMILIAN BEERBOHM SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA by ROBERT BURNS |