This poem is contained in one of Mr. Heinlein’s best short stories, “The Green Hills of Earth”, which I remember reading when I was, like, 16 years old- and which has remained vivid in my memory ever since. It’s a superb story by a true grandmaster of science fiction, and one of the best parts of that story was the poem it contained that gave that work its name.

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 moulds of Venus,

We retch at her tainted breath.

Foul are her flooded jungles,

Crawling with unclean death.

[ — the 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 drives 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 the friendly skies

And the cool, green hills of Earth.