Upon Leaving the Black Hills
by A. Jean Holmes
Beautiful hills, beneath whose shadows
I have dreamed dreams, have loved, have gained, and failed,
Have watched the sunsets pale, and breathed the pine,
And sung by lonely campfires to the stars:
Yet going, as I am, beyond the reach
Of finger-tips of fragrance in the winds,
And sight of brave, black hills against the sky,
I need not say good-bye; for you will be
Forever with me, though without your shrine.
Nor need I ask your steadfastness, your strength,
The purpose of your pines; be mine the will
To use them in my need, for they are there.
Through thee I have known God-steadfast as hills,
Constant and sweet as thy sweet spirit is!
Our little souls must understand the great
By simple simile: hills we can see
Can touch, can walk, and so can prove them real;
God, greater far, we trembling strive to feel.