PROCEEDINGS—PERTHSHIRE SOCIETY OF NATURAL SCIENCE. CXXvii 
This hill is as our life—steep after steep, 
Climbed and surmounted, opens to our view 
A nobler stretch of plain, more of the blue 
Which overhead flows on from deep to deep. 
The world and all its vanities grow small; 
Who wants its gold when all about our way 
My Lady’s Bedstraw, Daisies, greet the day, 
And Ragwort and St. John’s Wort top them all? 
Who wants its silver when the cliffs are white 
With starry Dryas and Pyrola sweet, 
And snowy Cress and Starwort kiss our feet— 
Dear emblems of all purity and light ? 
Who lacks royal purple where the heathers throw 
A regal mantle on the bare hillside ? 
Or who asks wine beside the smiling tide 
Of yonder stream where bending grasses grow ? 
No ! no ! yon lark up singing thro’ the air 
Carries our hearts and longings up with it; 
No sordid aims surround us as we sit— 
All things about us perfect are and fair. 
We are ourselves : not ants in piled ant-heap, 
Not midges play’ng with pleasure for an hour, 
Not butterflies flitting from flower to flower, 
Not drops of water in a countless deep. 
The soul has room to move and grow up here ; 
The Maker’s voice comes sounding on the breeze, 
Rustles with heather, moves in bending trees, 
Fills us with love that awe inspires, not fear. 
“ God for us all, and each for one another ; ” 
The world lies spread before us—we are kings 
Of each bright weed, of every bird that sings— 
We all are kings, yet each to each is brother. 
We pledge ourselves in this free mountain air ; 
All knowledge lies before us—we shall win 
More and more light, as grows the soul within ! 
Shout we aloud simply for lack of care. 
Take up the song that other hills have heard ; 
Pass on the strain to coming future years ; 
Far in the west the monarch sun appears, 
And coming night a slumbering breeze has stirred. 
Fall soft, O evening light, on weary men, 
Who are as children in the great God’s hand, 
Learning to spell, connect, and understand 
Dame Nature’s book. Wake, echo, in yon glen ! 
