Out of the hills of Habersham,              [1]
   Down the valleys of Hall,
I hurry amain to reach the plain,
Run the rapid and leap the fall,
Split at the rock and together again,
Accept my bed, or narrow or wide,
And flee from folly on every side
With a lover's pain to attain the plain
   Far from the hills of Habersham,
   Far from the valleys of Hall.

   All down the hills of Habersham,           [11]
   All through the valleys of Hall,
The rushes cried `Abide, abide,'
The willful waterweeds held me thrall,
The laving laurel turned my tide,
The ferns and the fondling grass said `Stay,'
The dewberry dipped for to work delay,
And the little reeds sighed `Abide, abide,
   Here in the hills of Habersham,
   Here in the valleys of Hall.'

   High o'er the hills of Habersham,          [21]
   Veiling the valleys of Hall,
The hickory told me manifold
Fair tales of shade, the poplar tall
Wrought me her shadowy self to hold,
The chestnut, the oak, the walnut, the pine,
Overleaning, with flickering meaning and sign,
Said, `Pass not, so cold, these manifold
   Deep shades of the hills of Habersham,
   These glades in the valleys of Hall.'

   And oft in the hills of Habersham,         [31]
   And oft in the valleys of Hall,
The white quartz shone, and the smooth brook-stone
Did bar me of passage with friendly brawl,
And many a luminous jewel lone
-- Crystals clear or a-cloud with mist,
Ruby, garnet, and amethyst --
Made lures with the lights of streaming stone
   In the clefts of the hills of Habersham,
   In the beds of the valleys of Hall.

   But oh, not the hills of Habersham,        [41]
   And oh, not the valleys of Hall
Avail:  I am fain for to water the plain.
Downward the voices of Duty call --
Downward, to toil and be mixed with the main,
The dry fields burn, and the mills are to turn,
And a myriad flowers mortally yearn,
And the lordly main from beyond the plain
   Calls o'er the hills of Habersham,
   Calls through the valleys of Hall.

1877.

                                 I

STRETCHING eyes west
Over the sea,
Wind foul or fair,
Always stood she
Prospect-impressed;
Solely out there
Did her gaze rest,
Never elsewhere
Seemed charm to be.

                                 II

Always eyes east
Ponders she now—
As in devotion—
Hills of blank brow
Where no waves plough.
Never the least
Room for emotion
Drawn from the ocean
Does she allow.

The Sun pours gold upon the waking earth
  And makes the hills and valleys ring with glee,
Brings fruits and flowers to their joyous birth,
  And paints strange colors on the foaming sea.
The Moon, with quivering wand of silver-white,
  Calls forth the fairies to their circling dance,
Bids lovers seek their never old delight,
  And fills the air with perfume of romance.
Yet, Sun, thy glory passes with the day,
  And Moon, the dawn destroys thy loveliness;
But thou, sweet Star o’ Love, wilt shine alway,
  Nor night nor day can make thy splendor less.
Fade, lordly Sun, and Moon, forget to shine,
Since thy white wonder, Star o’ Love, is mine!

You must not call me Maggie, you must not call me Dear,
  For I'm Lady of the Manor now stately to see;
And if there comes a babe, as there may some happy year,
  'T will be little lord or lady at my knee.

O, but what ails you, my sailor cousin Phil,
  That you shake and turn white like a cockcrow ghost?
You're as white as I turned once down by the mill,
  When one told me you and ship and crew were lost:

Philip my playfellow, when we were boy and girl
  (It was the Miller's Nancy told it to me),
Philip with the merry life in lip and curl,
  Philip my playfellow drowned in the sea!

I thought I should have fainted, but I did not faint;
  I stood stunned at the moment, scarcely sad,
Till I raised my wail of desolate complaint
  For you, my cousin, brother, all I had.

They said I looked so pale,--some say so fair,--
  My lord stopped in passing to soothe me back to life:
I know I missed a ringlet from my hair
  Next morning; and now I am his wife.

Look at my gown, Philip, and look at my ring,
  I'm all crimson and gold from top to toe:
All day long I sit in the sun and sing,
  Where in the sun red roses blush and blow.

And I'm the rose of roses says my lord;
  And to him I'm more than the sun in the sky,
While I hold him fast with the golden cord
  Of a curl, with the eyelash of an eye.

His mother said "fie," and his sisters cried "shame,"
  His high-born ladies cried "shame" from their place:
They said "fie" when they only heard my name,
  But fell silent when they saw my face.

Am I so fair, Philip? Philip, did you think
  I was so fair when we played boy and girl,
Where blue forget-me-nots bloomed on the brink
  Of our stream which the mill-wheel sent awhirl?

If I was fair then sure I'm fairer now,
  Sitting where a score of servants stand,
With a coronet on high days for my brow
  And almost a sceptre for my hand.

You're but a sailor, Philip, weatherbeaten brown,
  A stranger on land and at home on the sea,
Coasting as best you may from town to town:
  Coasting along do you often think of me?

I'm a great lady in a sheltered bower,
  With hands grown white through having naught to do:
Yet sometimes I think of you hour after hour
  Till I nigh wish myself a child with you.

Me imperturbe, standing at ease in Nature,
Master of all or mistress of all, aplomb in the midst of irrational things,
Imbued as they, passive, receptive, silent as they,
Finding my occupation, poverty, notoriety, foibles, crimes, less
    important than I thought,
Me toward the Mexican sea, or in the Mannahatta or the Tennessee,
    or far north or inland,
A river man, or a man of the woods or of any farm-life of these
    States or of the coast, or the lakes or Kanada,
Me wherever my life is lived, O to be self-balanced for contingencies,
To confront night, storms, hunger, ridicule, accidents, rebuffs, as
    the trees and animals do.

Mine is a body that should die at sea!
  And have for a grave, instead of a grave
Six feet deep and the length of me,
  All the water that is under the wave!

And terrible fishes to seize my flesh,
  Such as a living man might fear,
And eat me while I am firm and fresh,--
  Not wait till I've been dead for a year!