Littell's Living Age/Volume 151/Issue 1948/The Wind on the Hill

is the summer air Which steals down the chestnut walk, When the children are playing there, While lovers wander and talk. But the wind on the hill for me, And the mist across the down, And the bright light over the sea, And ships coming home to the town!

O merry the sunny strand, Where waves wash in at one's feet, And the wives and the children stand And wait for the fishing fleet. But the wind on the hill for me, And the mist across the down, And the strong light over the sea, And ships coming home to the town!

O stately the castle tower, 'Mid its cedars, dark and still, Where ghosts come back at midnight hour, And the midday sun falls chill. But the wind on the hill for me, And the mist across the down, And the wild light over the sea, And ships coming home to the town!

And solemn the gray church spire (I see it, looking down!) With its weather-vane tipped with fire, As the sun sets over the town. But the wind on the hill for me, And the mist across the down, And the golden light on the sea, And ships going out from the town!

There's a grave by the old church door (That changed all the world one day). Can it be the mist from the moor Creeps up as I look that way? But the wind on the hill for me, And the mist across the down, Though the light is sad on the sea, And the ships go out from the town!

I should like to die on the hill, Some day as the sun goes down, And the wind, blowing strong and chill, Drives out the ships from the town! Yes! the wind on the hill for me, And the mists may lie below: There's a glad light over the sea, And a secret for me to know!