|The prairie land is a lovely land, and fair it lies and broad,
With its miles of sheer and shimmering wheat, a-sway on the
But I come from the hills, and I miss the hills, that lift their
heads to God.
A prairie sky is a wondrous thing, rose-stained and turquoise
When the last gray hour of the night is spent, and the day is
But my heart has leaped to the rugged hills, when the silver
dawn stepped through.
A prairie night is soft and blurred, out under a star-sown sky;
The fireflies rise from the tail, damp grass, as the last of day
Through holy nights we have watched the hills, ___ the desert
stars and I.
The prairie land is a friendly land, where gay, wild sunflowers
Their dusty heads to each stiff necked spray of wayside golden-
But I loved the hills, the stern, dark hills, that spoke to me of
The Call of Kansas and Other Poems
Esther M. (Clark) Hill
(Cedar Rapids: Torch Press. __)