Isa Knox


* * *


A GREENNESS oer my vision passed,
A freshness oer my brain,
Rose up as when I saw them last
The glad green hills again.

Amid the streets bewildering roar,
I heard the rushing stirs
Of vagrant breezes running oer
The dark tops of the firs.

Far round, the wide and swooning view
The bound of chainèd heights;
Far off, the dales my footsteps knew,
With all their green delights;

Far down, the river winding through
The valley, silver white;
Far up, amid the cloudless blue,
The slow sail of the kite.

A greenness oer my vision passed,
A freshness oer my brain,
Rose up as when I saw them last
The glad green hills again.






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