Only the old ones had been
In the ancient house on the hill,
Long, long ago they said,
Better left now, they said,
The sad old house on the hill.
And then the magic came
Setting the walls of that house aglow.
The doors burst open, and the windows,
And a strange, soft singing filled the streets.
Oh, it was so sweet and thrilling
That we children too, went at once
With old ones on the long, slow climb
To the beckoning place on the hill.
A happy spirit had entered
With a wildwood heart
For the walls of the house
And all the time, the singing
Sent us seeking, seeking,
Through room after room.
The roof was gone in part,
Pieces of blue had entered
And occasional wisps of cloud
And nestling safely, the birds were praising
The sky and the house and the singing.
It was her song the old ones told us.
Source: Talks with my Skateboard by Libby Hathorn