Contents -BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD

John Greenleaf Whittier (1807–1892). The Poetical Works in Four Volumes. 1892.

Personal Poems

The Hill-Top

THE BURLY driver at my side,

We slowly climbed the hill,

Whose summit, in the hot noontide,

Seemed rising, rising still.

At last, our short noon-shadows hid

The top-stone, bare and brown,

From whence, like Gizeh’s pyramid,

The rough mass slanted down.

I felt the cool breath of the North;

Between me and the sun,

O’er deep, still lake, and ridgy earth,

I saw the cloud-shades run.

Before me, stretched for glistening miles,

Lay mountain-girdled Squam;

Like green-winged birds, the leafy isles

Upon its bosom swam.

And, glimmering through the sun-haze warm,

Far as the eye could roam,

Dark billows of an earthquake storm

Beflecked with clouds like foam,

Their vales in misty shadow deep,

Their rugged peaks in shine,

I saw the mountain ranges sweep

The horizon’s northern line.

There towered Chocorua’s peak; and west,

Moosehillock’s woods were seen,

With many a nameless slide-scarred crest

And pine-dark gorge between.

Beyond them, like a sun-rimmed cloud,

The great Notch mountains shone,

Watched over by the solemn-browed

And awful face of stone!

“A good look-off!” the driver spake:

“About this time, last year,

I drove a party to the Lake,

And stopped, at evening, here.

’T was duskish down below; but all

These hills stood in the sun,

Till, dipped behind yon purple wall,

He left them, one by one.

“A lady, who, from Thornton hill,

Had held her place outside,

And, as a pleasant woman will,

Had cheered the long, dull ride,

Besought me, with so sweet a smile,

That—though I hate delays—

I could not choose but rest awhile,—

(These women have such ways!)

“On yonder mossy ledge she sat,

Her sketch upon her knees,

A stray brown lock beneath her hat

Unrolling in the breeze;

Her sweet face, in the sunset light

Upraised and glorified,—

I never saw a prettier sight

In all my mountain ride.

“As good as fair; it seemed her joy

To comfort and to give;

My poor, sick wife, and cripple boy,

Will bless her while they live!”

The tremor in the driver’s tone

His manhood did not shame:

“I dare say, sir, you may have known”—

He named a well-known name.

Then sank the pyramidal mounds,

The blue lake fled away;

For mountain-scope a parlor’s bounds,

A lighted hearth for day!

From lonely years and weary miles

The shadows fell apart;

Kind voices cheered, sweet human smiles

Shone warm into my heart.

We journeyed on; but earth and sky

Had power to charm no more;

Still dreamed my inward-turning eye

The dream of memory o’er.

Ah! human kindness, human love,—

To few who seek denied;

Too late we learn to prize above

The whole round world beside!

1850.