| OVER the river, on the hill, | |
| Lieth a village white and still; | |
| All around it the forest-trees | |
| Shiver and whisper in the breeze; | |
| Over it sailing shadows go | 5 |
| Of soaring hawk and screaming crow, | |
| And mountain grasses, low and sweet, | |
| Grow in the middle of every street. | |
| |
| Over the river, under the hill, | |
| Another village lieth still; | 10 |
| There I see in the cloudy night | |
| Twinkling stars of household light, | |
| Fires that gleam from the smithy's door, | |
| Mists that curl on the river-shore; | |
| And in the roads no grasses grow, | 15 |
| For the wheels that hasten to and fro. | |
| |
| In that village on the hill | |
| Never is sound of smithy or mill; | |
| The houses are thatched with grass and flowers; | |
| Never a clock to toll the hours; | 20 |
| The marble doors are always shut, | |
| You cannot enter in hall or hut; | |
| All the villagers lie asleep; | |
| Never a grain to sow or reap; | |
| Never in dreams to moan or sigh; | 25 |
| Silent and idle and low they lie. | |
| |
| In that village under the hill, | |
| When the night is starry and still, | |
| Many a weary soul in prayer | |
| Looks to the other village there, | 30 |
| And weeping and sighing, longs to go | |
| Up to that home from this below; | |
| Longs to sleep in the forest wild, | |
| Whither have vanished wife and child, | |
| And heareth, praying, this answer fall: | 35 |
| "Patience! that village shall hold ye all!" | |
