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Home  »  Collected Poems by A.E.  »  144. On a Hillside

Walter Murdoch (1874–1970). The Oxford Book of Australasian Verse. 1918.

144. On a Hillside

A FRIENDLY mountain I know;

As I lie on the green slope there

It sets my heart in a glow

And closes the door on care.

A thought I try to frame—

I was with you long ago;

My soul from your heart out-came;

Mountain, is that not so?

Take me again, dear hills,

Open the door to me

Where the magic murmur thrills

The halls I do not see,

The halls and caverns deep;

Though sometimes I may dare

Down the twilight stairs of sleep

To meet the kingly there.

Sometimes on flaming wings

I sit upon a throne

And watch how the great star swings

Along the sapphire zone.

It has wings of its own for flight,

Diamond its pinions strong,

Glories of opal and white,

I watch the whole night long.

Until I needs must lay

My royal robes aside

To toil in a world of grey,

Grey shadows by my side.

And when I ponder it o’er

Grey memories only bide,

But their fading lips tell more

Than all the world beside.