Whilst the greatest effort has been made to ensure the quality of this text, due to the historical nature of this content, in some rare cases there may be minor issues with legibility. The hills. The everlasting hills! They hedge me round Then like a being pure and fair as snow, And hold me safe within the narrow vale. The full moon rises grandly o'er the hills From all the world's great turmoil not a sound And mounting zenithward serene and slow, Doth penetrate these silences profound. She pours a flood of light on all below, Ah! Life is a paradise in this fair vale. And views her face in myriad mountain rills.