"Where Hudson Sweeps Between the Hills"

Where Hudson Sweeps Between the Hills

Still, still I see the purple dust 

Blown thro’ the golden air 

Where Hudson sweeps between the hills 

In emerald verdure fair, 

And the sunset flings from peak to peak 

The red mesh of her hair. 

Still, still I hear the robins sing 

With raindrops in their throats, 

While in the ether’s tender blue 

A soft cloud-body floats― 

Its loosened fragments sailing on 

Like little silver boats. 

I know how high the cool waves reach 

To lip the bending shore; 

And how the sweet wistarias blow 

In beauty evermore; 

I know how leisurely the sun 

Stoops thro’ the West’s red door. 

I know how rich and deep the nap 

Is on the velvet lawn, 

And how the swallows’ liquid notes 

Are in the eaves at dawn; 

And how the first pale primrose rays 

Are down the valley drawn. 

Though far from thy blue tossing arms, 

Dear Hudson, and the light 

That sits upon the morning hills, 

And the stars that each calm night 

Shine in the dimples of thy breast 

Like jewels soft and bright, 

Still do I hold deep in my heart 

One lost and perfect June, 

When lightly thro’ thy singing waves 

Swam the young slender moon― 

When all the music of my soul 

To thee was set in tune.

"Where Hudson Sweeps Between the Hills" as it appears in Ella Higginson's When the Birds Go North Again (1898).