THE LONG HILL
by: Sara Teasdale (1884-1933)
POEMS BY SARA TEASDALE
- must have passed the crest a
- 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.