As it climbeth from the west,
Sideway from the tree-locked valley to the airy upland crest.
Small the wood is, green with hazels,
And, completing the ascent,
Where the wind blows and sun dazzles,
Thrills, in leafy tremblement,
Like a heart that after climbing beateth quickly through content.
Not a step the wood advances
O’er the open hill-top’s bound;
There in green arrest the branches