J.
C.
Squire .
I
cannot
sink , I
cannot
climb,
Now
that I
see my ancient dwelling ,
The central
orb
untouched
of time,
And
taste
a
peace
all
bliss
excelling
.
Now
I
have
broken
Beauty
's
wall
,
Now
that my kindred
world
I
hold
,
I
care not
though
the
cities
fall
And
the
green
earth
go
cold
.
THE
THREE
HILLS
.
THERE
were
three hills
that
stood alone
With
woods about their feet
.
They
dreamed
quiet when
the
sun
shone
And whispered
when
the
rain
beat
.
They
wore
all
three
their
coronals
Till men
with
houses
came
And
scored
their
heads
with
pits
and walls
And
thought the
hills were tame
.
Red
and white
when
day
shines
bright
,
They
hide
the
green
for miles
;
Where
are
the
old
hills
gone
?
At night
The moon
looks down
and
smiles
.
176