I know a quiet little place, A circle in the hills, Where sun and shadow slant along In lovely shining rills Between the columns of the pines Whose far strong arms uphold A curving sky of tender blue Where wispy silver clouds float through, Entangling in the boughs. Was all of the song we knew! It's fragrant there—and very still. It's solemn sweet—like prayer, With just the circle of the hills And sky-filled, sun-drenched air. |