The Hill - Horace Annesley Vachell - Bog

"Five hundred faces, and all so strange! Life in front of me-home behind, I felt like a waif before the wind Tossed on an ocean of shock and change. "Chorus. Yet the time may come, as the years go by, When your heart will thrill At the thought of the Hill, And the day that you came so strange and shy." The train slid slowly out of Harrow station.