To The Hills Haunted

To The Hills Haunted

Ye who have scaled the steep,
And challenged the gale;
bathed in the burns that leap
From summit to dale.

Watched the low cloud unfurl,
O`er the shadowy pass;
Sought for the ferns that curl,
In the dim crevasse.

Ye who have loved old tales,
By a peat fire told;
Followed forgotten trails,
To the realms of gold.

Clung to the pinnacles crest,
In the burning noon;
Slept on the mountains breast
`Neath a hallowed moon.

Ye who have walked alone,
In the sun and the rain;
Where the long whitened bone,
Scatters the plain.

Follow, my comrades, my friends,
To the hills we know,
Hills where the rainbow ends,
At the edge of the snow.

Brenda G. Macrow