Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, WHENCE COMETH MY HELP, by P. L. MONTGOMERY


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

WHENCE COMETH MY HELP, by                    
First Line: Here, on these hills, no sense of loneliness
Last Line: My troubles fall, so close to me seems god.
Subject(s): Religion; Theology


Here, on these hills, no sense of loneliness
Touches my soul. When the long days are fine,
And I can see, for miles on miles, the line
Of far-off mountains where their summits press
Against the arching azure of the skies,
Or when rain blots all objects out from me
But the dim outline of the nearest tree,
And little sounds so strangely magnifies,
I am content. Peace on my soul descends.
No unfilled longings rise in me to choke
My will. I smell the fragrance of damp sod
Whose pungency with forest odors blends,
And from my shoulders, like an outworn cloak,
My troubles fall, so close to me seems God.





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