THE LONG HILL

by: Sara Teasdale (1884-1933)

      must have passed the crest a while ago
      And now I am going down--
      Strange to have crossed the crest and not to know,
      But the brambles were always catching the hem of my gown.
       
      All the morning I thought how proud I should be
      To stand there straight as a queen,
      Wrapped in the wind and the sun with the world under me--
      But the air was dull, there was little I could have seen.
       
      It was nearly level along the beaten track
      And the brambles caught in my gown--
      But it's no use now to think of turning back,
      The rest of the way will be only going down.

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