Explore "The Hills" by Charlotte Perkins Gilman on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The flowing waves of our warm sea / Roll to the beach and die, / But the soul of the waves forever fills / The curving crests of our restless hills / That climb so wantonly.
Up and up till you look to see / Along the cloud-kissed top / The great hill-breakers curve and comb / In crumbling lines of falling foam / Before they settle and drop.
Down and down, with the shuddering sweep / Of the sea-wave's glassy wall, / You sink with a plunge that takes your breath, / A thrill that stirreth and quickeneth, / Like the great line steamer's fall.
We have laid our streets by the square and line, / We have built by the line and square; / But the strong hill-rises arch below / And force the houses to curve and flow / In lines of beauty there.
And off to the north and east and south, / With wildering mists between, / They ring us round with wavering hold, / With fold on fold of rose and gold, / Violet, azure, and green.