A Rose O' The Hills

The hills look down on wood and stream, On orchard-land and farm; And o'er the hills the azure-gray Of heaven bends the livelong day With thoughts of calm and storm. On wood and stream the hills look down, On farm and orchard-land; And o'er the hills she came to me Through wildrose-brake and blackberry, The hill wind hand in hand. The hills look down on home and field, On wood and winding stream; And o'er the hills she came along, Upon her lips a woodland song, And in her eyes, a dream. On home and field the hills look down, On stream and vistaed wood; And breast-deep, with disordered hair, Fair in the wildrose tangle there, A sudden space she stood. O hills, that look on rock and road, On grove and harvest-field, To whom God giveth rest and peace, And slumber, that is kin to these, And visions unrevealed! O hills, that look on road and rock, On field and fruited grove, What now is mine of peace and rest In you! since entered at my breast God's sweet unrest of love!