Once I thought the land I had loved and known
Lay curled in my inmost self; musing alone
In the quiet room I unfolded the folded sea,
Unlocked the forest and the lonely tree,
Hill and mountain valley beach and stone,
All these, I said, are here and exist in me.
But know I know it is I who exist in the land;
My inmost self is blown like a grain of sand
Along the windy beach, and is only free
To wander amoung the mountains, enter the tree,
To turn again a sea-worn stone in the hand,
Because these things exist outside of me.
O far from the quiet room my spirit fills
The familiar valleys, is folded deep in the hills.
Deep in the hills – Ruth Dallas (1953)