James Weldon Johnson, ed. (1871–1938). The Book of American Negro Poetry. 1922.

The Hills of Sewanee

SEWANEE HILLS of dear delight,

Prompting my dreams that used to be,

I know you are waiting me still to-night

By the Unika Range of Tennessee.

The blinking stars in endless space,

The broad moonlight and silvery gleams,

To-night caress your wind-swept face,

And fold you in a thousand dreams.

Your far outlines, less seen than felt,

Which wind with hill propensities,

In moonlight dreams I see you melt

Away in vague immensities.

And, far away, I still can feel

Your mystery that ever speaks

Of vanished things, as shadows steal

Across your breast and rugged peaks.

O, dear blue hills, that lie apart,

And wait so patiently down there,

Your peace takes hold upon my heart

And makes its burden less to bear.