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I know the hills are beautiful now, so I'm sending you this little poem - and as you look at Prospect & Mount. Tom, & all the rest, think a little thought of your first roommate |
| Betty |
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In the highlands, in the country places, Where the old plain men have rosy faces, And the young fair maidens Quiet eyes; Where essential silence cheers & blesses, And for ever in the hill recesses. Her more lovely music. Broods & dies. Oh to mount again where erst I haunted; Where the old red hills are bird-enchanted And the low green meadows Bright with sward; And when even dies, the million-tinted, And night has come, & plants glinted, Lo! the valley hollow, lamp-bestarred. Oh to dream, Oh to awake & wander there, & with delight to take & render, Through the trance of silence, Quiet breath; Lo! for there, among the flowers & the grasses, Only the mightier movement sounds & passes, Only winds & rivers, Life & death. |
| Robert Louis Stevenson |