WHO is it sits at the top of the hill And teaches each shy httle shivering rill? And says: "Down, down, your ripples must run And you must laugh back at the happy sun, And you must blow down, O small hill breeze, And rock the wee nests that hang from the trees." Some night when the sky is very still, I shall climb to the top of the woody hill, I shall climb and climb till I find you out, As you proudly sit in your high redoubt, Old man of the hill, old man of the hill. That teaches each breeze and each shivering rill. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...YOUNG BLOOD by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET THE GIANTS OF HISTORY by JAMES GALVIN WHERE? by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON ON A TUFT OF GRASS by EMMA LAZARUS A DAY IN BED by KATHERINE MANSFIELD |