From the green valley I see the lumbering hills
Of darker green are the forests that like a shawt
Are draped  over a beautiful stranger who's face
You cannot  see but  who beckons you to come.
You know you cannot get there because what you
See will not be there.  It is so with so much that is
Desired.  You cannot always come to what can only
Be seen at a distance; you know this but still you go
When you are young and when old long to return to
The valley where the faithful hills still stand guard