The hills. The everlasting hills! They hedge me round Then like a being pure and fair as snow, And hold me safe within the narrow vale. The full moon rises grandly o'er the hills From all the world's great turmoil not a sound And mounting zenithward serene and slow, Doth penetrate these silences profound. She pours a ?ood of light on all below, Ah! Life is a paradise in this fair vale. And views her face in myriad mountain rills.