The wild mountains are calling me again.
Did I try to cast them off?
Those dark blue hills of my youth?
I still lyricise about heather,
The birks and the deep cold lochs.
But I seem to have adjusted my love
To fit, elegantly, these smooth, green swards
That have become my life, the yellow
Harvests that bask on sunlit, warm plateaus,
And the thin, slow running
Streams and rivers of England.
Just who do I think I am fooling?
I know those hills better than that!
I know them as half the perimeter of the world.
The rich purple that sinks into my heart.
The passionate light and dark of bog lakes,
The pristine white contrasting the blue.
And I know how, in that stark light,
Those dark hills will come howling through my blood
Like the wolves through their forests.
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Those Mountains by Elizabeth Delaney )
- Love is a Liquid ~~~ vs.54, Monk E. Biz
- Love is a Liquid ~~~ vs.53, Monk E. Biz
- Love is a Liquid ~~~ vs.52, Monk E. Biz
- That Kid Is Me, Luis Estable
- Love is a Liquid ~~~ vs.51, Monk E. Biz
- Behind The Mountains, Bismark Sosu
- Sonnet # 530, Luis Estable
- Jesus saw in me what others failed to see, Royston Allen
- Seasons Away, Bismark Sosu
- "What manner of Man is this? ".., Royston Allen
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