Today I walked on the lion-coloured hills
with only cypresses for company,
until the sunset caught me, turned the brush
to copper
set the clouds
to one great roof of flame
above the earth,
so that I walk through fire, beneath fire,
and all in beauty.
Being alone
I could not be alone, but felt
(closer than flesh) the presence of those
who once had burned in such transfigurations.
My happiness ran through the centuries
in one continual brightness.  Looking down,
I saw the earth beneath me like a rose
petaled with mountains,
fragrant with deep peace.
–  Elizabeth Coatsworth, On the Hills, 1924