I ride on the mountain tops, I ride;
I have found my life and am satisfied.
Onward I ride in the blowing oats,
Checking the field-lark's rippling notes-
Lightly I sweep

From steep to steep:

Over my head through the branches high
Come glimpses of a rushing sky;

The tall oats brush my horse's flanks;
Wild poppies crowd on the sunny
banks;
A bee booms out of the scented grass;
A jay laughs with me as I pass.

The Joy of the Hills

I ride on the hills, I forgive, I forget
Life's hoard of regret-
All the terror and pain
Of the chafing chain.
Grind on, O cities, grind:
I leave you a blur behind.

I am lifted elate

the skies expand:

Here the world's heaped gold is a pile of sand. Let them weary and work in their narrow walls: I ride with the voices of waterfalls!

I swing on as one in a dream—I swing
Down the airy hollows, I shout, I sing!
The world is gone like an empty word:

My body's a bough in the wind, my heart a bird!

The low-voiced girls that go

In gardens of the Lord,

Like flowers of the field they grow In sisterly accord.

Their whispering feet are white

Along the leafy ways;

They go in whirls of light

Too beautiful for praise.

And in their band forsooth
Is one to set me free-

The one that touched my youth-
The one God gave to me.

The Invisible Bride

She kindles the desire

Whereby the gods survive

The white ideal fire

That keeps my soul alive.

Now at the wondrous hour

She leaves her star supreme, And comes in the night's still To touch me with a dream.

Sibyl of mystery

On roads beyond our ken,
Softly she comes to me,
And goes to God again.

power

I know a valley in the summer hills,
Haunted by little winds and daffodils;
Faint footfalls and soft shadows pass at noon;
Noiseless, at night, the clouds assemble there;
And ghostly summits hang below the moon-
Dim visions lightly swung in silent air.