The Poetry Corner

The Three Hills

By John Collings Squire, Sir

There were three hills that stood alone With woods about their feet. They dreamed quiet when the sun shone And whispered when the rain beat. They wore all three their coronals Till men with houses came And scored their heads with pits and walls And thought the hills were tame. Red and white when day shines bright They hide the green for miles, Where are the old hills gone?At night The moon looks down and smiles. She sees the captors small and weak, She knows the prisoners strong, She hears the patient hills that speak: "Brothers, it is not long; "Brothers, we stood when they were not Ten thousand summers past. Brothers, when they are clean forgot We shall outlive the last; "One shall die and one shall flee With terror in his train, And earth shall eat the stones, and we Shall be alone again."