AFTER long days when I come Once more from far-roving home, While I watch with eager eyes Old loved landmarks, friendly-wise; Sudden bursting into view Sharp etched on the skies' clean blue, Lo, the hills of home arise. Always 'round the curve they lie Waiting hid as I draw nigh, Till I pass the angled bend And the last long slope ascend, And the shortening road runs straight; There to welcome me they wait — Hills of home, and journey's end. Hoofbeats quickening on the trail — Grind of train wheels on the rail — Motor swerving sharp and sheer — Steamer reaching for the pier — Curve or headland, break or bend I must pass, and at the end Stand the home hills, clean and clear. Thus, when fate my spirit brings To the ordained end of things, I shall come as now I come Through far spaces wearisome, Through the shrouding veils that lie Twixt time and eternity, Till they blaze against the sky; Gold and jade—the Hills of Home. |