I love the hills that crown the shadowed glade
They turn to royal purple at the touch
Those hills that lift their sunny crags
Toward the azure dome-,
The barren cliffs-, the rocky hills-,
The sea gulls salty home.
I love the hills where columbines and dusky blue bells hide-,
Those hills from which the ocean sends its white caps circling wide.
I love the hills that overlook the vale
They guard the daisies in the fields that stretch
Those lofty hills that lift their peaks
On March’s windy day-,
Great rolling hills that Springtime crowns with green and softest bloom-
They scatter o’er each valley path the scent of sweet perfume.
I love the hills where roses twine each day
They gently catch and echo back each song,
Those flaming hills of Autumn time
That change to sombre brown-,
Or hills that dare our dancing feet
With Winter’s snow white down.
I love all hills that waft the scent of Freedom on to me-,
For hills all hold the breath of life no matter where they be.
– Circa 1929