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archive:sf:grenhill.sf
		   The Green Hills of Earth
			 by Rhysling
		Blind Singer of the Spaceways
		     (Robert E. Heinlein)
	      Let the sweet fresh breezes heal me
	      As they rove around the girth
	      Of our lovely mother planet
	      Of the cool, green hills of Earth.
	      We rot in the molds of Venus,
	      We retch at her tainted breath.
	      Foul are her flooded jungles,
	      Crawling with unclean death.
	      -- harsh, bright soil of Luna --
	      -- Saturn's rainbow rings --
	      -- the frozen night of Titan --
	      We've tried each spinning space mote
	      And reckoned its true worth:
	      Take us back again to the homes of men
	      On the cool, green hills of Earth.
	      The arching sky is calling
	      Spacemen back to their trade.
	      ALL HANDS!  STAND BY!  FREE FALLING!
	      And the lights below us fade.
	      Out ride the sons of Terra,
	      Far drive the thundering jet,
	      Up leaps a race of Earthmen,
	      Out, far, and onward yet--
	      We pray for one last landing
	      On the globe that gave us birth;
	      Let us rest our eyes on friendly skys
	      And the cool, green hills of Earth.



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