  My heart turns to the mountains That I so long have missed, The blue hills on the sky-line, Bird-haunted, sunshine-kissed; For in my soul I see them, The gullies golden-green Where from the hop-vine tangle The bellbird chimes unseen. And higher yet and higher I want to climb, until The trees give place to bushes Wind-shorn and struggling still For foothold on the corries Steep-sloping to the sky, I want to reach the summit And watch the clouds race by; The clouds that go so quickly The whole hill seems to lean;— I want to breathe in deeply The cool air, thin and keen. My heart turns to high places All men have long adored— The proud and lonely mountains, The Altars of the Lord. Australia. |
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