by Thomas Traherne (1637? - 1674)

The hill
Language: English 
Rise, noble soul and come away;
Let us no longer waste the day:
Come let us haste to yonder Hill,
Where pleasures fresh are growing still.

The way at first is rough and steep;
And something hard for to ascend:
But on the top do pleasures keep
And ease and joys do still attend.
Come let us go: and do not fear
The hardest way, while I am near.
My heart with thine shall mingled be;
Thy sorrows mine, my joys with thee.
Rise and come away.

Authorship

Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)


Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

This text was added to the website: 2010-01-25
Line count: 13
Word count: 87