On Steepest Hill

On steepest hill I climb up to your throne;
You sit there, regal, in blithe beauty dight.
The sky and all beneath you is your own
And I am ‘stonished at such royal sight.
You glance a-down the slope whereon I stand
And nod to me, then beckon with your hand,
Which is the finest my eyes have ever seen:
Strong, yet soft, and certain I’ll obey.
Two strides, now ‘tween us patch of green.
You stand, stern, dark eyes bright as May,
And yet your lips do quiver as you say,
“I have not loved a man so rich as thee,
For you’ve great wealth in ownership of me.”
And down your cheeks roll tides of longing years,
And all the sky is ringing in my ears!

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