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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=348096" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>An Ode To The Hills</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">AEons ago ye were,<br>Before the struggling changeful race of man<br>Wrought into being, ere the tragic stir<br>Of human toil and deep desire began:<br>So shall ye still remain,<br>Lords of an elder and immutable race,<br>When many a broad metropolis of the plain,<br>Or thronging port by some renowned shore,<br>Is sunk in nameless ruin, and its place<br>Recalled no more.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Empires have come and gone,<br>And glorious cities fallen in their prime;<br>Divine, far-echoing, names once writ in stone<br>Have vanished in the dust and void of time;<br>But ye, firm-set, secure,<br>Like Treasure in the hardness of God's palm,<br>Are yet the same for ever; ye endure<br>By virtue of an old slow-ripening word,<br>In your grey majesty and sovereign calm,<br>Untouched, unstirred.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Tempest and thunderstroke,<br>With whirlwinds dipped in midnight at the core,<br>Have torn strange furrows through your forest cloak,<br>And made your hollow gorges clash and roar,<br>And scarred your brows in vain.<br>Around your barren heads and granite steeps<br>Tempestuous grey battalions of the rain<br>Charge and recharge, across the plateaued floors,<br>Drenching the serried pines; and the hail sweeps<br>Your pitiless scaurs.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The long midsummer heat<br>Chars the thin leafage of your rocks in fire:<br>Autumn with windy robe and ruinous feet<br>On your wide forests wreaks his fell desire,<br>Heaping in barbarous wreck<br>The treasure of your sweet and prosperous days;<br>And lastly the grim tyrant, at whose beck<br>Channels are turned to stone and tempests wheel,<br>On brow and breast and shining shoulder lays<br>His hand of steel.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And yet not harsh alone,<br>Nor wild, nor bitter are your destinies,<br>O fair and sweet, for all your heart of stone,<br>Who gather beauty round your Titan knees,<br>As the lens gathers light.<br>The dawn gleams rosy on your splendid brows,<br>The sun at noonday folds you in his might,<br>And swathes your forehead at his going down,<br>Last leaving, where he first in pride bestows,<br>His golden crown.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In unregarded glooms,<br>Where hardly shall a human footstep pass,<br>Myriads of ferns and soft maianthemums,<br>Or lily-breathing slender pyrolas<br>Distil their hearts for you.<br>Far in your pine-clad fastnesses ye keep<br>Coverts the lonely thrush shall wander through,<br>With echoes that seem ever to recede,<br>Touching from pine to pine, from steep to steep,<br>His ghostly reed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The fierce things of the wild<br>Find food and shelter in your tenantless rocks,<br>The eagle on whose wings the dawn hath smiled,<br>The loon, the wild-cat, and the bright-eyed fox;<br>For far away indeed<br>Are all the ominous noises of mankind,<br>The slaughterer's malice and the trader's greed:<br>Your rugged haunts endure no slavery:<br>No treacherous hand is there to crush or bind,<br>But all are free.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Therefore out of the stir<br>Of cities and the ever-thickening press<br>The poet and the worn philosopher<br>To your bare peaks and radiant loneliness<br>Escape, and breathe once more<br>The wind of the Eternal: that clear mood,<br>Which Nature and the elder ages bore,<br>Lends them new courage and a second prime,<br>At rest upon the cool infinitude<br>Of Space and Time.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The mists of troublous days,<br>The horror of fierce hands and fraudful lips,<br>The blindness gathered in Life's aimless ways<br>Fade from them, and the kind Earth-spirit strips<br>The bandage from their eyes,<br>Touches their hearts and bids them feel and see;<br>Beauty and Knowledge with that rare apprise<br>Pour over them from some divine abode,<br>Falling as in a flood of memory,<br>The bliss of God.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I too perchance some day,<br>When Love and Life have fallen far apart,<br>Shall slip the yoke and seek your upward way<br>And make my dwelling in your changeless heart;<br>And there in some quiet glade,<br>Some virgin plot of turf, some innermost dell,<br>Pure with cool water and inviolate shade,<br>I'll build a blameless altar to the dear<br>And kindly gods who guard your haunts so well<br>From hurt or fear.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There I will dream day-long,<br>And honour them in many sacred ways,<br>With hushed melody and uttered song,<br>And golden meditation and with praise.<br>I'll touch them with a prayer,<br>To clothe my spirit as your might is clad<br>With all things bountiful, divine, and fair,<br>Yet inwardly to make me hard and true,<br>Wide-seeing, passionless, immutably glad,<br>And strong like you.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Archibald+Lampman">Archibald Lampman</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=348096" data-title="An Ode To The Hills de Archibald Lampman" data-description="AEons ago ye were,
Before the struggling changeful race of man
Wrought into being, ere the tragic stir
Of human toil and deep desire began:
So shall ye still remain,
Lords of an elder and immutable race,
When many a broad metropolis of the plain,
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