Crossing the Range

As we went riding over the earth

The little hills skipped forward to meet us.

The taller ones laughed with welcoming mirth,

Challenged us merrily, to defeat us;

And the youngest and tallest mountain of all

Jumped in our path, his gay head high,

Pretended to threaten with jocular call,

"You can't get by, can't get by!

I won't let you by; so what will you do?"

But the wind in the pine trees chuckled, "Try!"

And we made him pant as the swift sport grew.

He dodged in front when we circled about,

He blocked our path till we couldn't get past;

We flung our defiance back to his shout.

As we leap-frogged over his back at last,

Something behind a tree cheered, "Hip,

Hip-hip-hooray! Hip-hip-hooray!"

The brook and the road played crack-the-whip

And romped at cross-tag all the day;

For all the world was keen for a game.

And the gay little hills ran quite a way

Behind us, shouting, "We're glad you came!"