HILL-TOP HOURS

I am through with regret.

No more shall I kennel with pain.

I have called to this whimpering soul,

This soul that is sodden with tears

And sour with the reek of the years!

And now we shall glory in light!

Like a tatter of sail in the wind,

Like a tangle of net on the sand,

Like a hound stretched out in the heat,

My soul shall lie in the sun,

And be drowsy with peace,

And not think of the past!