By Ruby Archer
O subtle valley, slipping in between
The shoulders of great sentinel hills
With smuggled silk of rainbow blossom sheen
And contraband of jeweled rills,—
We welcome you behind the pine-plumed ranks.—
You barter beauty for our thanks.
Dear lake-eyed valley, we will hide you here.
The mountains will not turn to look.
Fair fugitive, through hood of mist forth peer,
And laugh in every dimpled nook.
And if you feel sometime a timid mood,
We’ll wrap you in our gratitude.