WONDERLAND. Now, while the sun and rain divide The path
upon the mountain side, Before the shining pools that lie In all the tiny hollows dry, Come, share the morning and the way, And trust the sun to win the day.
Come, ere the sweetest scent of grass New-born of heat and rain can pass, While every flower with drooping stem Still holds a dewy diadem, Forget to-day to toil and spin,
And lose the world yourself to win.
Come : all along the ways of peace The song of streams will never cease. Each conscious of some high employ, Each thrilling with an inward joy, They trust the future undescried And hurry down the mountain side.
A single moment sets us free, And one with all the hills are we ; Of kinship to the force divine
Which plants the boulder and the pine,
And sharers of the joy that stirs The tiny hearts of grasshoppers.
Importunate to search our coats With prying heads will come the goats, Sweet-breathing cows will stand and stare, And little silent maids, who bear Such heavy burdens on the back, Will watch us up the climbing track.
If you and I have thoughts allied To all that loves the mountain side, We'll keep the morning message still, The scent, the music, and the thrill, And brave to bear, the children's way, We'll trust our hearts to win the day.
We'll trust our hearts P Yet far from here The city children, all the year, Dream their unconquerable dreams Of goats and cows, of flowers and streams— And we—we suffer them to stand Outside the gates of Wonderland.
Bel Alp, August 22nd. HUGH ILLCNAGHTE:Y.
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