Through all the pleasant meadow-side The grass grew shoulder-high, Till the shining scythes went far and wide And cut it down to dry. Those green and sweetly smelling crops They led the waggons home; And they piled them here in mountain tops For mountaineers to roam. Here is Mount Clear, Mount Rusty-Nail, Mount Eagle and Mount High;-- The mice that in these mountains dwell, No happier are than I! Oh, what a joy to clamber there, Oh, what a place for play, With the sweet, the dim, the dusty air, The happy hills of hay! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 35 by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN INTAGLIOS by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH DISAPPOINTED by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS OUR MODEST DOUGHBOYS by CHARLTON ANDREWS PREFACE TO ERINNA'S POEMS by ANTIPATER OF SIDON LOVE POSTPONED by RUTH FITCH BARTLETT A WAY TO A HAPPY NEW YEAR by ROBERT BREWSTER BEATTIE |