Whos for the Hills?
Who’s for the hills? Ho, for the stress and struggle, and at last The gain of summit places sure and fast! Ho, for a clearer air, a fairer view, A hilltop nearer to the mighty blue! Who’s for the hills? Who’s for the hills? Ho, for the morning wrestle, and the climb To wholesome peaks above the fens of time! A sturdy company, come, let us go And leave the shadow line far, far below. Who’s for the hills? — By Frank Walcott Hutt This poem was sent to me by my sister, Mary Ellen Friend. She added a P.S. — the answer is Alyce Faye Bragg. She is right, of course. Although I can no longer climb to the summit as I once did, the pull of the hills is still strong. Mr. Otis Hinkle, principal of Hagar Grade School, always took us on a field trip when autumn began to spread her colors over the hills. We climbed Pilot Knob before there was a road up its steep incline. Carrying our lunch in a paper bag, we started off with high hopes. Singing lustily, “We’re tramping off together/ to climb the dis
