THE HIGHEST HILL IN HAPPY TOWN
The highest hill in Happytown—I climbed it just today,
A little wind went with me, like a comrade, all the way.
I’d longed to journey to the place, and when the glad day came,
I told myself that Happytown should be the village name.
We chose the pleasant river road that leads along the fields,
And what a wealth of clover-sweet the wind across it yields!
We drove through little Singing Woods, we passed another place,
But all the time ’twas Happytown toward which I turned my face.
“O horses, hurry on,” I sang, “and do not wait to drink,
How glad you are to stop a while at shady River Brink!”
And when we reached the little town, I flew with glad swift feet,
To what I knew was waiting me at end of Sunlight Street.
The little road is brown and steep, and wriggles up the hill,
And all the way the drooping trees stand shady, cool, and still;
I climbed and looked about me; and there before me lay
The great wide world I’d heard about, all shining in the day.
Close down below was Happytown, its red roofs painted new,
And all the little chimney-pots were filled with misty blue;
The children’s voices rose to me; I watched the wagons go
Along the little crooked streets, in sunshine there below.
And out upon the valley, where the greenest meadows lay
I saw the tiny reaper folk go piling up the hay;
Then far, far out and wide I looked; and wonderful to me,
On distant shores I’d never seen, spread out the wide, blue sea.
I saw it shining in the light, all misty blue and gray,
The little soft-winged wander boats were resting on the bay;
I stood and looked and wondered, and wished some day to go
Far over there to hear its voice, and feel the salt wind blow.
And have you heard of Happytown? And do you know its hill?
Such wonders can it show you when the air is clear and still;
The highest in the countryside, for when you stand and look
The world is spread before you, like a wide and open book.