C. S. Lewis,
Spirits in Bondage
(1919)
“ I stand on the windy uplands among the hills of Down With all the world spread out beneath, meadow and sea and town, And ploughlands on the far-off hills that glow with friendly brown. And ever across the rolling land to the far horizon line, Where the blue hills border the misty west, I see the white roads twine, The rare roads and the fair roads that call this heart of mine. I see them dip in the valleys and vanish and rise and bend From shadowy dell to windswept fell, and still to the West they wend, And over the cold blue ridge at last to the great world's uttermost end. ”
