Explore "The Hayloft" by Robert Louis Stevenson on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Through all the pleasant meadow-side / The grass grew shoulder-high, / Till the shining scythes went far and wide / And cut it down to dry.
These green and sweetly smelling crops / They led in wagons home; / And they piled them here in mountain-tops / For mountaineers to roam.
Here is Mount Clear, Mount Rusty-Nail, / Mount Eagle and Mount High; -- / The mice that in these mountains dwell, / No happier are than I!
O what a joy to clamber there, / O what a place for play, / With the sweet, the dim, the dusty air, / The happy hills of hay!