The sun is but a flame, Like a candle in the sky, And the stars, a gentle game, That secret lovers spy.
Every light upon the hill, Holds a story, old and grand, Nature keeps your heart so still, As you walk upon this land.
- John Muir
The sun is but a flame, Like a candle in the sky, And the stars, a gentle game, That secret lovers spy.
Every light upon the hill, Holds a story, old and grand, Nature keeps your heart so still, As you walk upon this land.