I will go out this afternoon, alone,

And find a warm hill

With a tree upon it,

And lie down beneath it's shade.

And I shall do nothing there.

Free, and alone, on a hill,

It may be I shall find peace.

Attuned in soul,

It may be I shall see things sightless

To the eye, and hear

The endless roll of soundless sounds,

Perceive things

All too fine and rare to know in the world.

On a hill, with heaven above,

And quietness, this maybe so.