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.
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Those Mountains by Elizabeth Delaney )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley
- Mental Evasions, Monica Lanier
- G I N A, hasmukh amathalal
- Esteemed, Monica Lanier
- बैसागुनि आगान, Bahadur Basumatary
- sTiLL the MOON mOVEs On PaSt MidNiGht ca.., sEaN nOrTh
- Released, Mehradad Nosrati
- Certain Feelings, Rohit Sapra
- Troubled Situations, Monica Lanier
- Keep heart open, hasmukh amathalal
- Dreaming of Happy, Dean Meredith