|April's hand is on the hills beyond the river,
April's fingers on the latest buds are pressed;
But this big, gray hill looks down on a fretting little town
Where the spring time only adds to life's unrest.
April's violets are out in yonder meadows,
April's languor is like drugged and honeyed wine;
But the lilac's luring scent on a willful heart is spent ___
O, for just one breath of clean, cool Northern pine!
For I'm homesick ___ homesick ___ homesick
For the North that is at once the old and new;
Hills of pine and friendly fir and gray-berried juniper,
How the heart turns back, in April, back to you!
Now the saucy little mountain streams, unprisoned,
Chatter gaily as they flee the ridge's crest;
And the silent canyons frown on the sheltered little town
That those red hills hold securely at the breast.
There's a tang of winter's wine in every morning,
While the timid shoots are creeping through the sod;
There's a peace that soothes and stills when the night comes
down the hills,
And the heart is lifted dumbly up to God.
And I'm homesick ___ homesick ___ homesick w
For the clear-cut Northern skies of silvered blue;
When the summertime steps forth on the North, the living
I'll be coming, hills beloved, back to you!
The Call of Kansas and Other Poems
Esther M. (Clark) Hill
(Cedar Rapids: Torch Press. __)