Hillsboro People

Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Valerine Blas and PG Distributed
Proofreaders
1915
VERMONT (Poem) HEMLOCK MOUNTAIN (Poem) AT THE FOOT OF HEMLOCK MOUNTAIN PETUNIAS—THAT'S FOR REMEMBRANCE THE HEYDAY OF THE BLOOD AS A BIRD OUT OF THE SNARE THE BEDQUILT PORTRAIT OF A PHILOSOPHER FLINT AND FIRE A SAINT'S HOURS (Poem) IN MEMORY OF L.H.W. IN NEW NEW ENGLAND THE DELIVERER NOCTES AMBROSIANAE (Poem) HILLSBORO'S GOOD LUCK SALEM HILLS TO ELLIS ISLAND (Poem) AVUNCULUS BY ABANA AND PHARPAR (Poem) FINIS A VILLAGE MUNCHAUSEN THE ARTIST WHO ELSE HEARD IT? (Poem) A DROP IN THE BUCKET THE GOLDEN TONGUE OF IRELAND (Poem) PIPER TIM ADESTE FIDELES! VERMONT
Wide and shallow in the cowslip marshes Floods the freshet of the April snow. Late drifts linger in the hemlock gorges, Through the brakes and mosses trickling slow Where the Mayflower, Where the painted trillium, leaf and blow.
Foliaged deep, the cool midsummer maples Shade the porches of the long white street; Trailing wide, Olympian elms lean over Tiny churches where the highroads meet. Fields of fireflies Wheel all night like stars among the wheat.
Blaze the mountains in the windless autumn Frost-clear, blue-nooned, apple-ripening days; Faintly fragrant in the farther valleys Smoke of many bonfires swells the haze; Fair-bound cattle Plod with lowing up the meadowy ways.
Roaring snows down-sweeping from the uplands Bury the still valleys, drift them deep. Low along the mountain, lake-blue shadows, Sea-blue shadows in the hollows sleep. High above them Blinding crystal is the sunlit steep.
By orange grove and palm-tree, we walked the southern shore, Each day more still and golden than was the day before. That calm and languid sunshine! How faint it made us grow To look on Hemlock Mountain when the storm hangs low!
To see its rocky pastures, its sparse but hardy corn, The mist roll off its forehead before a harvest morn; To hear the pine-trees crashing across its gulfs of snow Upon a roaring midnight when the whirlwinds blow.