The Hill People.
Their steps are light and exceedingly fleet:They pass me by in the hurrying street.
I pause to look at a window’s show—From the white-flecked alp the hill winds blow—
And all at once it has passed me there,Lilting back to the land of the air,
Back to the land of the great white stills:Is it only the wind that comes down from the hills?
———
Was it Pikes Peak Pixie or Cheyenne SheeThat...
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