Over the Hill to Hustonville

Over the Hill to Hustonville

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Over the hill to Hustonville,
Past mead and vale and waving grain,
With fleecy clouds and glad sunshine
And the balm of the coming rain;
On where hidden beneath the hill,
In the widening vale below-
Chime and smithy and distant herd
Sing a song of the long ago.

Over the hill to Hustonville
Where silent fields are sad and brown
And the crow's lone call is blended
With the anvil-beat of the town;
Where sweet the hamlet life flows on,
And the doors, ever open wide,
Welcome the worn and wandering
To the ingle and cheer inside.

Over the hill to Hustonville
I knew and loved as a child,
A scene that yet lights up to me
With a radiant glow and mild;
With drowsy lane and quiet street,
The gables quaint and the houses gray,
Ancient inn with battered sign,
And an air of the far-away.

Over the hill to Hustonville
Where men are still sturdy and strong
As were their sires in days long past-
As true as their flint-locks long;
And maids are shy and soft of speech-
As the wild rose lithesome and true-
Eyes alight as the coming dawn-
Softly blue, as their skies are blue.

Some-sometimes-in the bye-and-bye,
With all my life-won riches rare-
Dead hopes and faded memories-
A silken floss of baby hair-
Fast-locked close within my heart-
Worn of strife and the empty quest-
I'll o'er the hill to Hustonville.
To dream ever-and rest-and rest.