To the Hills!
Laurence, Hope, The Garden of Kama And other Love Lyrics from India (London: William Heinemann, 1917): 125-26. PR 6027 I37G3 1917 Robarts Library
1'Tis eight miles out, and eight miles in,
2Just at the break of morn.
3'Tis ice without and flame within,
4To gain a kiss at dawn!
5Far, where the Lilac Hills arise
6Soft from the misty plain,
7A lone, enchanted hollow lies
8Where I at last draw rein.
9Midwinter grips this lonely land,
10This stony, treeless waste,
11Where East, due East, across the sand,
12We fly in fevered haste.
13Pull up! the East will soon be red,
14The wild duck westward fly,
15And make above my anxious head,
16Triangles in the sky.
17Like wind we go; we both are still
18So young ; all thanks to Fate!
19(It cuts like knives, this air so chill,)
20Dear God! if I am late!
21Behind us, wrapped in mist and sleep
22The Ruined City lies,
23(Although we race, we seem to creep!)
24While lighter grow the skies.
25Eight miles out only, eight miles in,
26Good going all the way;
27But more and more the clouds begin
28To redden into day.
29And every snow-tipped peak grows pink
30An iridescent gem!
31My heart beats quick, with joy, to think
32How I am nearing them!
33As mile on mile behind us falls,
34Till, Oh, delight! I see,
35My Heart's Desire, who softly calls
36Across the gloom to me.
37The utter joy of that First Love
38No later love has given,
39When, while the skies grew light above,
40We entered into Heaven.
Publication Start Year:
RPO poem Editors: