Let me go to the mountains where the air fresh as the babbling spring. Where the night sky is unpolluted by man’s neon light. Where the moon shines in her glory her pail face looking over the rumpled face of the old mount. Where the wind blows gently through the trees whispering her secrets in the trees. She loves those who chase her and laughs at though who stand to face her. For she is a love of mine and she has her moods as lovers do. Sometimes she scares the travelers wailing in the night through the mount’s many wrinkles. At other times she gently runs her fingers across the face and through the hair of a stranger as she passes them by. Take me where they are. Take me to the brook where I may lye down and rest and when I awake with the mornin is kissing me with the morning dew. I may drink deep from natures well. Let me be with my friends for it is they who listen at all times. It is in them I confined my secrets. Oh, let me go to the mountains.