The Long Hill

by Sara Teasdale
I must have passed the crest a while ago
 And now I am going down —
Strange to have crossed the crest and not to know,
 But the brambles were always catching the hem of my gown.
All the morning I thought how proud I should be
 To stand there straight as a queen,
Wrapped in the wind and the sun with the world under me —
 But the air was dull, there was little I could have seen.
It was nearly level along the beaten track
 And the brambles caught in my gown —
But it's no use now to think of turning back,
 The rest of the way will be only going down.