Poets' Corner Home Page
News and Recent Additions
HE silence of maternal hills
Is round me in my evening dreams;
And round me music-making rills
And mingling waves of pastoral streams.
Whatever way I turn I find
The path is old unto me still.
The hills of home are in my mind,
And there I wander as I will.
Index to poems in the collection by
H O M E
©2001 Poets' Corner Editorial Staff, All Rights Reserved Worldwide