The Joy of the Hills
I ride on the mountain tops, I ride;I have found my life and am satisfied.Onward I ride in the blowing oats,Checking the field-lark’s rippling notes--Lightly I sweepFrom steep to steep:Over my head through the branches highCome glimpses of a rushing sky;The tall oats brush my horse’s flanks;Wild poppies crowd on the sunny banks;A bee booms out of the scented grass;A jay laughs with me as I pass.
I ride on the hills, I forgive, I forgetLife’s hoard of regret--All the terror and painOf the chafing chain.
Grind on, O cities, grind:I leave you a blur behind.I am lifted elate--the skies expand:Here the world’s heaped gold is a pile of sand.Let them weary and work in their narrow walls:I ride with the voices of waterfalls!
I swing on as one in a dream--I swingDown the airy hollows, I shout, I sing!The world is gone like an empty word:My body’s a bough in the wind, my heart a bird!
Words in this poem
- sunny a.
- Of or pertaining to the sun; proceeding from, or resembling the sun; hence, shining; bright; brilliant; radiant.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
The Joy of the Hills is in the public domain. This text is taken from The man with the hoe, and other poems, Project Gutenberg ebook #67012; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Edwin Markham, The Joy of the Hills, in The Man with the Hoe, and Other Poems (1899), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #67012, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/markham-man-with-hoe/the-joy-of-the-hills.html, id L24780.
Form and metre
The Joy of the Hills is 26 lines in 4 stanzas. The rhyme scheme is AABB, complete in 2 of its 4 stanzas. The metre is iambic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 78%).
See other poems in iambic pentameter.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 1 AABBCCDDEEFF rideA · satisfiedA · oatsB · notesB · sweepC · steepC · highD · skyD · flanksE · banksE · grassF · passF
- 2 AABB forgetA · regretA · painB · chainB
- 3 AABBCC grindA · behindA · expandB · sandB · wallsC · waterfallsC
- 4 AABB swingA · singA · wordB · birdB
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against iambic pentameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| I ride on the mountain tops, I ride; | 9 | ····/˘··· |
| I have found my life and am satisfied. | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Onward I ride in the blowing oats, | 9 | /˘····/˘· |
| Checking the field-lark’s rippling notes-- | 9 | /˘···/˘˘· |
| Lightly I sweep | 4 | /˘·· |
| From steep to steep: | 4 | ···· |
| Over my head through the branches high | 9 | ······/˘· |
| Come glimpses of a rushing sky; | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| The tall oats brush my horse’s flanks; | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Wild poppies crowd on the sunny banks; | 9 | ·/˘···/˘· |
| A bee booms out of the scented grass; | 9 | ······/˘· |
| A jay laughs with me as I pass. | 8 | ········ |
| I ride on the hills, I forgive, I forget | 11 | ······˘/·˘/ |
| Life’s hoard of regret-- | 5 | ···˘/ |
| All the terror and pain | 6 | ··/˘·· |
| Of the chafing chain. | 5 | ··/˘· |
| Grind on, O cities, grind: | 6 | ···/˘· |
| I leave you a blur behind. | 7 | ······· |
| I am lifted elate--the skies expand: | 10 | ··/˘˘/··˘/ |
| Here the world’s heaped gold is a pile of sand. | 10 | ·········· |
| Let them weary and work in their narrow walls: | 11 | ··/˘····/˘· |
| I ride with the voices of waterfalls! | 10 | ····/˘·/˘· |
| I swing on as one in a dream--I swing | 10 | ·········· |
| Down the airy hollows, I shout, I sing! | 10 | ··/˘/˘···· |
| The world is gone like an empty word: | 9 | ······/˘· |
| My body’s a bough in the wind, my heart a bird! | 12 | ·/˘········· |
The reader shows the same poem with its rhymes coloured and a stress row above each line, the notes beside their stanzas, and any word's definition on a tap; the analysis page takes the whole book apart. How every part of this site was made.