Malcolm Hemphrey Poems >>
The Hills Of Home

Oh! yon hills are filled with sunlight, and the green
   leaves paled to gold,
And the smoking mists of Autumn hanging faintly
   o'er the wold;
I dream of hills of other days whose sides I loved to
   roam
When Spring was dancing through the lanes of those
   distant hills of home.

The winds of heaven gathered there as pure and cold
   as dew;
Wood-sorrel and wild violets along the hedgerows
   grew,
The blossom on the pear-trees was as white as flakes
   of foam
In the orchard 'neath the shadow of those distant
   hills of home.

The first white frost in the meadow will be shining
   there to-day
And the furrowed upland glinting warm beside the
   woodland way;
There, a bright face and a clear hearth will be waiting
   when I come,
And my heart is throbbing wildly for those distant
   hills of home.