OH ! MY HEART IS A-HUNGRY FOR THE HILLS 



ALFRED I. TOWNSEND. 



Oh ! my heart is a-hungry for the hills, 



where the pine and the hemlock 



grow, 

 Where the life of spring now throbs and 



thrills and the pussy-willows blow; 

 Where the shimmering trout like a phantom 



shade through the dashing water flies, 

 And ridge on ridge the hills are laid till 



they touch the very skies. 

 Where the lizard basks in the blazing sun 



and the honeysuckle lends 

 Its burning flame 'till the day is done and 



the shadowy night descends. 

 Where the quails are whistling low amid 



the depths of the thorny maze, 

 And the far-off peaks are faintly hid by a 



delicate veil of haze. 

 Where the drooping boughs of the sugar 



pine their resinous censers sway, 

 And fling their odors before the shrine of 



the burning god of day ; 

 Where the eagle sails in the azure deep, and 



the manzanita burns ; 



Where the river sings the world to sleep, 



and the joy of youth returns. 

 Where the ferns are trembling 'neath the 



tread of the elfs that bring the 



breeze, 

 And the stag is sleeping within his bed in 



the shady of the mighty trees. 

 Where the squirrel high on his leafy throne 



is voicing his shrill commands ; 

 Where the vulture, sits on the crags, alone, 



a monarch of barren lands ; 

 Where the tent is pitched in the shady nook 



and night from the canyons creeps ; 

 Where the sun is taking his last fond look 



as the mountains fall asleep. 

 Where a glowing spot in the canyon marks 



the place where the hunter camps, 

 And high in the sky like floating sparks 



the angels swing their lamps. 

 Oh, my heart is a-hungry for the hills where 



my feet have often trod, 

 Where the pulse of life now throbs and 



thrills 'neath the loving hand of God. 



AMATEUR PHOTO BY W. H. THURSTON. 



GREAT BLUE HERON AT HOME. 

 One of the 13th Prize Winners in Recreation's 7th Annual Photo Competition, 



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