Up on the Mountain by Fannie Stearns Davis

Up on the mountain, where nobody comes, (But the wild wind walks, and the wild bee hums,) --

Up on the mountain, where nobody spies, But the shy ones, the swift ones, soft-footed and wise, --

There in the singing and coolness and height, With the thrush-voice all day and the brook-voice all night, --

There will I wander, and there will I rest, As a deer in the fern, as a bird in the nest.

Far from the faces that stare and are blind; From the cold hidden heart, and the cold crooked mind, --

Up on the mountain where nobody sees, I will sleep like a leaf of the green simple trees.

I will fold in my heart all my wonder, and sleep, While the white stars drift, and the white hours creep.

-- And far from the wind and the stars and the hill I will wake in the hot nights and smile and lie still,

As I feel on my eye-lids the hands of the night, Like an echo of leaf-song, a star's straying light.

Oh, under the labor and blindness and heat Shall be music to lure me and lighten my feet, --

Beating, "Up on the mountain, where nobody comes, -- But the wild wind walks, and the wild bee hums, -- And the wild bee hums -- "