The Ridge
IIs
I LOVE to top a ridge on wild, clear days
When every field is swept clean by the wind:
To come up, quickly, unsuspected ways
And find earth there below me without end.
I love to stand for long hours, looking down
On lands I know, discovering each line
Of every farm between me and the town,
And halfway dream that every farm is mine.
And there is there among the windy trees
Of any ridge, a thing farsighted, tall,
I give my heart to and my farmer-knees:
Though I’m not understanding it at all,
I think it’s in the way a ridge can be
Eyes for a man too short to stand and see.
When every field is swept clean by the wind:
To come up, quickly, unsuspected ways
And find earth there below me without end.
I love to stand for long hours, looking down
On lands I know, discovering each line
Of every farm between me and the town,
And halfway dream that every farm is mine.
And there is there among the windy trees
Of any ridge, a thing farsighted, tall,
I give my heart to and my farmer-knees:
Though I’m not understanding it at all,
I think it’s in the way a ridge can be
Eyes for a man too short to stand and see.