Classic Poem

“One day, one day, I'll climb that distant hill
And pick the blue-bells there!”
So dreamed the child who lived beside the rill
And breathed the lowland air.
“One day, one day, when I am old I'll go
And climb the mountain where the blue-bells blow!”

One day! One day! The child was now a maid,
A girl with laughing look;
She and her lover sought the valley-glade
Where sang the silver brook.
“One day,” she said, “love, you and I will go
And reach that far hill where the blue-bells blow!”

Years passed. A woman now with wearier eyes
Gazed towards that sunlit hill.
Tall children clustered round her. How time flies!
The blue-bells blossomed still.
She'll never gather them! All dreams fade so.
We live and die, and still the blue-bells blow.