Memory

Oh Fancy, take me back
Where the hills press the sky;
Where the light comes slowly
O'er their soft curves,
And the evening star bangs;
Where the yellow poppies
Spread ope their treasure house,
And the humming bird hangs
Poised upon a petal.
Take me back, where the night means rest,
And the tongue is not confused
With man's cunning remarks;
Where I may speak in mute language
To the night,
And hold communion with the stars-
While the hills fold their arms about me.