Here further up the mountain slope
Than there was every any hope,
My father built, enclosed a spring,
chains of wall round everything,
Subdued the growth of earth to grass,
And brought our various lives to pass.
girls and boys we were.
The mountain seemed to like the stir,
And made of us a little while--
With always something
in her smile.
Today she wouldn't know our name.
(No girl's, of course, has stayed the same.)
The mountain pushed
us off her knees.
And now her lap is full of trees.