Ho! up the hill we go

Now I trudge up that hill again
Ere from where I've fallen many times

There is hope, and
Traces of innocent enthusiasm
Not unmixed with a wry expectation
of being buffeted by gusts of Fate

One eye looks at everything anew
One mind recognizes the dangers in store

The senses are exhilarated
by the fragrance and feel
of the beautiful rose
The memory of whose piercing thorns
also does linger somewhere

The grass is green
and dales undulating
But one knows a steep abyss
could be anywhere out there

Yet I trudge up the hill now
On this warm pleasant sunshine day
With not a speck of cloud anywhere
With at least some traces of
a bygone innocence
Keeping for a while my fears at bay