Blanche Taylor Dickinson, "That Hill" (1927)
This poem won honorable mention in THE CRISIS contest of 1926.
IT crawled away from ’neath my feet,
And left me standing there;
A little at a time, went up
An atmospheric stair.
I couldn’t go for watching it,
To see where it would stop;
A tree sprang out and waved to me
When it had reached the top.
The tree kept nodding friendly like,
Beckoning me to follow;
And I went crawling up and up,
Like it did from the hollow.
Then I saw why the thing would go
A-soaring from the dell—
T’was nearing Heaven every bound,
And fleeing fast from Hell!
Published in The Crisis, January 1927