Here further up the mountain slope Than there was every any hope, My father built, enclosed a spring, Strung chains of wall round everything, Subdued the growth of earth to grass, And brought our various lives to pass. A dozen girls and boys we were. The mountain seemed to like the stir, And made of us a little while- With always something in her smile. Today she wouldn't know our name. (No girl's, of course, has stayed the same.) The mountain pushed us off her knees. And now her lap is full of trees. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FIDDLING WOOD by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET WHEN THE SPEED COMES by ROBERT FROST THE ORANGE PICKER by DAVID IGNATOW ITALIAN PICTURES: COSTA MAGIC by MINA LOY A MENDOCINO MEMORY by EDWIN MARKHAM |